


Furry Magic

by neichan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Child Exploitation, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Incest, Mpreg, Multi, Threesomes, lycanthropy, many triggers, non graphic child abuse, read at your own risk, wereleopards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 111
Words: 154,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neichan/pseuds/neichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry catches a nasty virus and it changes his whole life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been contacted by a reader who feels this story may trigger thoughts and memories of non-con. So I have added a dubious con to the tags. I think it is impossible to know all the areas of sensitivity each reader may have, and what level triggers them. 
> 
> Each reader should be careful to take the proper care of her or himself. If you feel like you need to stop reading or want to discuss tags please feel free. I am sure people will see all sorts of things that I don't pick up on. I actually stopped writing in HP fandom a while ago because it made me squeamish to write about characters who were so young. 
> 
> My purpose in writing this particular fic was to explore the sudden, involuntary immersion of a young person into a culture that he didn't understand and couldn't predict. What had to happen for him to find his place in that strange culture?
> 
> And another reader has mentioned that there are a number of other tags that could be added. I recall when I wrote this many years back, I pretty much cautioned that it shouldn't be read by anyone easily upset, or of delicate constitution. Writing underage certainly upset me, and so I am not surprised if there are many points that may cause triggers. So I do caution those who are sensitive not to embark on reading this fic lightly.

Chapter 1

 

"Well, Mr. Potter. You are the last person I expected to see asking for admittance to Malfoy Manor." Lucius Malfoy said silkily as he moved around his desk, leaning back against it when he'd stopped in front of the boy slumped in the wide armchair. His nose wrinkled at a slightly musky odor in the air. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

 

"Our visit, dear." The sneering, cultured voice came from the doorway, before the Potter boy could answer. Harry shrank even further down in the confines of the chair. He had a long shallow scratch on his cheek, dried blood smeared down his face and onto his dirt streaked shirt. A few strands of his riotously curly hair were stuck to his cheek by the blood. 

 

He kept his eyes averted, he was too still. And he didn't try to say anything. Not the brash, brave young brat Malfoy remembered. He didn't like the change, it alerted him to something not being quite right. But, just now there was a more pressing problem. Lucius now knew what that nasty smell was.

 

A delicately built man lounged against the jamb. His slim legs were clothed in plum trousers and he wore a matching waistcoat over a pale pink ruffled shirt. His boots were a slightly darker plum color. His black hair was cut rakishly, spiky. He was smiling, but underneath the smile he was tense, ready to react instantly if need be. 

 

Lucius pushed up off the desk, growling. His thick shoulders bunched as his attention diverted from the shivering boy in the chair to the very familiar, most unwelcome man. The source of the skin tingling odor. Lucius' nose quivered, his lips pulling back from his teeth.

 

"Paulsen, you sniveling shit, get out of my house, or I will kill you where you stand." Lucius snarled, his voice suddenly far deeper than should have been possible, a deep resonant rumble in his chest, very close to a roar. His body seemed to be suddenly larger, much more threatening, if that was possible.

 

"No, Malfoy, you won't. And don't try to hex me out until I've had my say. Dumbledore has put a protection spell on me. Besides, you deserve it, you let your wards slip. It was a piece of cake for Dumbledore to get me in here." The man grinned showing his perfect teeth, waggling a long finger at the much larger Lucius. He turned sideways, looking across his shoulder at the big man. There was a challenge in his darkly lashed, chocolate brown eyes.

 

"You dare to bring that man's magic into my home, then demand I listen to you?" Lucius moved forward a step. The other man stood up and away from the door frame. His arms hung loosely from his sides, poisied for flight.

 

"He sent me to bring the boy to you." Paulsen said, deceptively calm. He tilted his head to the side, looking over through his lashes. "I had no choice but to come here if he commanded it. I owe him, Lucius. You know it. Don't blame me." He considered flashing an ingratiating smile but decided it wasn't worth the risk.

 

"Why would he send me one of his little playthings? With you to deliver it to me?" Lucius Malfoy advanced, enjoying the suddenly unmistakable nervousness in the other man's stance. The Potter boy edged away from the side of the chair Lucius was passing. Lucius frowned, but kept his attention on the other man. Paulsen was poised to run, every survival instinct on alert. Lucius sensed not another predator, but prey. "Come now, tell me something I can believe, puppy."

 

"Since the boy was stupid enough to get bitten on the last full moon. He's a lycanthrope, Lucius." Paulsen said quickly, wanting to stop Malfoy from coming nearer. Time to stop taunting. Provoking him a little was fun, getting into a real scrap with Malfoy was suicide. Paulsen knew better.

 

"Why don't you take care of him then, wolf? Or does your loyalty not even extend that far? To your own kind?" Lucius growled, his grey eyes narrowing, paling, the strange light in them growing. Paulsen actually took a step back into the hall, pulling out his wand, which Lucius ignored.

 

"I can not, he's not my flavor of animal. I can hardly stand to be around him. He positively reeks." Paulsen shuddered, casting a glance at the huddled figure. His distaste was not feigned.

 

"What animal, then?" Lucius pressed. Prowling closer, his movements fluid, feral as he advanced. Paulsen held up a hand placatingly.

 

"He is a were-leopard." And Paulsen was unable to suppress a grin as he disclosed that tidbit of unwelcome information. "Just your style, Luc. A brand new kitten just for you. Young, and sweet, and succulent."

 

"Impossible. Who is responsible?" The growl grew into a coughing roar. The teeth Lucius bared included an impressive set of fangs.

 

"Well, that is the question isn't it. Who had your permission to turn someone last full moon? Ohhh. I seeeee. No one? Is papa kitty losing control of his sweet beasts, Lucius?" And with that last barb, Paulsen apparated out of the Manor. Tittering with laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

"Up, Potter." Lucius Malfoy strode back into his study and toward the boy in his chair. His long legs eating up the distance between them. Harry's eyes met his with trepidation, huge green eyes in a milky white face. Terrified. Lucius continued to advance.

Harry struggled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the chair to steady himself, his voice came out as an unrecognizable croak. Lucius Malfoy watched him swallow, working his throat to clear it. Harry never made it to another attempt at speech. He stayed upright for precisely ten seconds, then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the floor, landing with a thump.

Lucius looked down at the crumpled heap of young man. Grunting with annoyance, he stooped and picked up the small frame. Instantly he felt it, the connection. Potter was a were-leopard, and he had come from Lucius' line, sanctioned or not. 

The most practical action was to kill the boy, and find the one who had turned him. Then to punish or kill that one. Depending on the circumstances. An accident might be forgiven, deliberate defiance....no.

But Lucius knew Potter. Admired him to a degree, a damned determined young man if highly irritating. And he smelled good. Delicious. Like pride. Part of Lucius' pride. As if he was already claimed by an alpha-leopard. An impossible thing. Lucius was the only alpha in his pride. The rest were omega or beta. Second and third tier in the dominance scale.

Lucius carried the unconscious youth down the hall effortlessly. The young man was cool to the touch, too cool, shocky. Not much muscle on him either. Physically weak, mentally strong. If Harry had still been wholly human Lucius would have been worried for his survival. But he was not human, not any more. There was plenty of time now to strengthen the too thin body.

Potter smelled of old and new blood, with a healthy dose of fear combined, pore deep, as if he'd been afraid for a while. Looking down, Lucius knew what he would see once Potter was undressed. Bruises. Scratches. Typical when a lycanthrope of one type encountered a second type. Rage, competition, the urge to toy with prey. It took many years to gain the control not to answer to the instinct. To defeat the drive to kill. Paulsen may have played with the fledgling, batting him around, or it may have been someone else.

The bathing room was warm, steam rising from the shallow pool. The edge sloped down into the water. Lucius lay the boy down and sent out a call for Amrys, his Des, or second in command. He felt the answering call, and set about undressing Harry while he waited. Then he undressed himself, the work of only moments, not wanting to wet his clothes.

He saw the expected scratches, and the bruises, some days old, some from only hours before. But Potter was alive, and would remain alive. His clothing was stuck to him in several places over the larger lacerations. Lucius scooped water and dripped it onto the places where the clothing was stuck, soaking it to loosen the blood adhering fabric to flesh. He gently prised the fabric away.

Amrys entered the room slowly, on alert, nose twitching, hair ruffled and standing on end. His lithe, golden skinned body was clothed only in light brown leather pants. His feet were bare. He approached cautiously. And at Lucius' nod of permission, he sank to his knees beside the two who were on the bathing pool's sandy verge. 

Amrys offered his cheek, lifting his chin and baring his throat to his alpha. Lucius rubbed his scent along the other man's face, back up to behind the well shaped ear. He lingered over the large pulse in the other man's neck. Then he pulled back. Together they gazed down at the slender youth sprawled on the flooring.

"Who is this?" The blond were-leopard growled. In answer Lucius pushed back the lank hair with one hand, revealing the pale forehead. He watched his second for a reaction. "Ahh." Amrys said as he took in the z shaped scar. "Why is *he* one of us?"

"I do not know. I have not discovered who turned him. He scents as if claimed, but is yet unmarked by an alpha." Lucius told the younger man. He turned Potter and looked at his back. More bruising. 

"That does not make sense. He can not be claimed if you have not marked him. There are no other alphas in our pride." Amrys stated the obvious. He sniffed to be sure. "He smells like one of us, but brand new, a kitten, less than a month old, two or three weeks at most, who had your leave?"

Lucius' pale eyes gleamed. "I know that. And I have not marked him. But I can smell an alpha claim on him. No one had my leave to do this. No one." He snarled, baring his fangs. Amrys rubbed his face submissively along Lucius' bare arm.

"You will lay claim to him? To take over the prior claim?" Amrys asked for confirmation when his alpha had calmed. If the boy was to be eliminated, then he would not be here in the bathing room of Malfoy Manor. Lucius meant to let the young man live.

"Yes." Lucius lifted the new one and walked into the bathing pool, the steam rising higher as he disturbed the water. Amrys waited until he was given a nod of permission, then he shed his pants and entered the water. Together they bathed the somnolent youth, who gave no reaction beyond a small moan when the worst of his injuries were washed.

Lucius ducked himself, rinsing off the remnants of Potter's blood from his own skin. He rose from the steam, water cascading off of his pale skin like drops of crystal. His broad chest, deep and strong with nipples like pale oval coins, gleaming on his pectorals as he rose. He took Harry from Amrys and stood still, allowing his second to run hands over him, to wash him clean. 

Then he carried Potter from the pool, large muscles bunching under his old-ivory toned skin. He set the youth on a cotton blanket and set about treating his many wounds. Claw marks, teeth scrapes. And the one bite mark, high on his shoulder. That was the one that had turned him. Forcing the saliva deep into him, holding the bite while the virus in it had time to sink into his bloodstream. Lucius measured the bite with is eyes. A big cat. Every bit as big as his own bite.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

The mist rose up, a thin, rose tinted line meandering up into the air. The witch bent down over the smoky mist, inhaling as the hair and blood boiled in the beaker of polyjuice. Blood-polyjuice. It was perfect. The best. She could be what she deserved to be. Have the power she deserved. It pleased her. It had taken so long. But now it was hers. 

She drank from the lifted, bubbling brew, draining the beaker dry. It slid down her throat like something solid, no longer liquid, congealing even as she hurried to bolt it down. It passed down her throat, a gelid mass, bitter, foul, but as the only means to her end, it tasted sweet to her. She gulped it before it could choke her. Like swallowing a mass of rancid liver, it slipped at last into her stomach. She gasped for air.

Ah. Yes. It was the same as the last time. The creeping heat moving through her limbs. Her heart, her lungs. Through her whole body. She fought the urge to claw at her skin, to ease the overwhelming itch of the shift from her to HIM. She reveled in the feeling of her body changing so profoundly. She gasped, feeling her genitals morphing, becoming male. No longer female. Extending out. No longer the bearer of life, but the giver. She grinned through the nauseating spin of the shift. It was GOOD.

Very slowly her face changed. From one breath to the next.

Inhale, and she stood taller. Her head raised in proud bearing.

Inhale, and she stood broader. Muscles swelling over her frame, flesh rippling like magical dough rising.

Inhale, and her face changed, the bones shifting, lifting and moving, becoming passionate, handsome, fierce. Him, she was becoming HIM. Her elation was a living thing.

Inhale, and her hair lengthened, lightened. Spilled down her back in a thick, silver, blond wave.

Inhale, and her eyes went hotter, paler. A blue grey that was so clear as to be the color of water.

Inhale, and she became the one who's hair and blood she stirred into her potion and drank. The pale skinned leopard king.

Inhale, and she could walk the earth as the powerful creature she should have been all along. As the chanting in her head faded, for one short hour she was him. She/he was, HIM, again.

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. And a solid, living man-beast stood where once a woman two centuries ignored had been. She/he stretched her/his stiff neck, shook off the languor. Time to hunt.

To watch.

She/he looked around, seeing the world through eyes still alive. Saw the trees, the buildings, the people filing in and out, gathering in groups. She/he was in the outer yard at Hogwarts, creeping along, hidden. She/he was a predator now. She/he could stalk her prey.

To hear.

Her ears flicked forward, picked up the shuffle of distracted steps, of someone walking and not aware, of the perfect prey as they concentrated on other things, not on safety. This was Hogwarts. The prey believed it was safe. She/he smiled baring long, gleaming fangs.

To scent. 

A little boy. Too young. She/he fought against the disappointment. Because just beyond, a few steps further was the perfect one. A girl. Older than the boy. And alone. She smelled good, ripe, right. The predator crept nearer. Anticipation quivering through her/his perfect feline body.

To touch. 

She/he leaped. The girl went down, with only whoosh of air leaving her lungs, no cry, as the predator's mouth fastened on her throat, stopping any sound. So easy. The hunter growled with joy, with the success of the hunt. Now came the best, as she/he weighed down the prey with her/his big, heavy body.

To taste. 

That was the one thing she/he needed most. To taste. The blood. The flesh. The fear. She/he sank her fangs in deep. And she fed on it all. The flesh, the blood, and most wonderfully the fear, as her/his teeth tore into the prey.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

"There has been another one." Amrys interrupted Lucius. The alpha looked up, his eyes darkening, brows lowered dangerously. Another strike at his authority. He snarled silently as his second came further into the room. Amrys was not afraid of him. He knew Lucius would not take his anger out on the bearer of bad news. The pride could not have a better leader. A more gifted one.

"And? Do you have the details? Was any one seen?" Lucius forced out in a relatively human voice, profoundly displeased with the turn of events. "Have witnesses been found to the attack?"

Amrys hesitated, then barged on with the rest of his news. "She has died, this one. She did not survive the attack. It was a kill attack, not one meant to change. Perhaps it was an accident that the first kitten survived." Amrys ventured his opinion.

"Are we sure it was one of our pride? Feline? Not wolf or rodent?" Lucius asked even as he nodded, agreeing with his second's assessment. He had wondered just that. More of the Potter luck. Nothing could kill the boy. He'd survived enough attempts to take out a dozen other men.

"Kaithas says it is one of ours. He scented the child. The scent on her was pride-scent. On the grounds of the school, Hogwarts. No one saw anything more. Or anyone who was not supposed to be there. The girl was near the forest, but not within it." Amrys sat on the corner of Lucius' polished, dark stained, cherry wood desk.

Lucius pushed away from the desk. "I do not like this. I am going to talk to Potter. We must stop this. Call the pride. I will meet with them later tonight. Every one of them. No exceptions." He stood, flexing his arms, rumbling angrily under his breath. He wore loose fitting trousers. Nothing else. His feet and chest were bare. The silk pants flowed along his legs, moving as he moved.

"He remembers nothing, alpha." Amrys said. Stepping back as his alpha passed him, dipping his head.

"I will know that for myself, my second." Lucius replied, running an acknowledging hand along the other lycanthrope's forearm as he went by.

@@@@@@@

"I want to leave." Harry Potter said, petulantly, the instant he saw Lucius Malfoy. "I don't belong here."

"Do you remember what happened to you, Potter?" Lucius squatted down next to the youth who glared up at him. So the boy was feeling better, capable of expressing defiance. That was good.

"No. I've already told every one else who has asked me. I don't remember anything at all. Just feeling sick, really sick. Dumbledore telling some guy in a purple suit to bring me here, I guess. Then that is it. I woke up and I was here. With them." 

Potter tilted his head at the other young-lings who had been set to watch him. He had made a loud protest on waking to find them snuggled all around him. And all of them naked to boot. Amrys spent most of an hour explaining to the new lycanthrope that was the way the pride slept. In piles, naked, together. Potter had not liked it. Lucius could tell he still thought they were pulling a fast one on him somehow. Subjecting him to some kind of perversion. Lucius smirked at that human viewpoint.

"Try to remember. It is more important now. There has been another attack. On Hogwarts' grounds, again. Not on the Quidditch field where they found you. This time it was near the Forbidden Forrest." He watched for how the boy took the news.

"At Hogwarts? Again? Who was it? Are they OK?" Harry sat up, the fur cover falling down to pool around his bare waist. Lucius reacted to the view in a way he had not expected. Desire. Hmmm. He chuffed the scent of the youth into his nostrils. Blinking slowly. Tasting him using scent.

"No. She is dead. I don't know her name. It is not safe for you to go back to Hogwarts. The one who has attacked you may try to call you. And you would have to answer. It is the way things are among us." Lucius told the scowling defiant young man. Potter's chin was jutting out. Set stubbornly.

Potter looked very unhappy. And frightened a moment later. Lucius was pleased that Potter has the sense to be frightened. Maybe he was growing up at last. Looking at things with a realistic view of the risks involved.

"How old are you, kitten?" Lucius asked. Potter looked, surprised, then annoyed. 

"Don't call me that. I am your son's age. Seventeen. Eighteen next month. I am not a child or a 'kitten'." He scowled fiercely at the man.

Lucius cuffed him sharply to the side of his head, knocking him down. 

"Hey! Ouch. What was that for?" Harry yelled, rubbing the sore place, while he wisely stayed curled up on his side giving Lucius a wary look, not trying to rise. Instinctively knowing he was safer on the foor.

"I am alpha. You do not correct me." Lucius growled moving closer to the shrinking young man, who fell silent, hand pressed to the side of his head. 

Lucius bumped into the boy, and Harry shuddered. Not with the revulsion he thought he should feel. He wanted the contact. He stretched out his neck unbidden. Lucius' mouth and chin pushed at his throat, teeth scraped over his skin, raising a shower of goose bumps. Harry gasped, arching up into the bite. Yes. His alpha was claiming him. He purred with satisfaction.

Harry gulped, swallowing hard. What the hell was that? He fought to even out his breathing, to think, as the bigger man's unclothed skin rubbed over his own. Malfoy was growling at him, pressing him back onto the furs. And Harry was reacting by going limp, passive, and not fighting back, not shoving him away. He was giving in. He felt the panic rising, but it was distant. Most of his awareness was focused on his surrender. He mewled as the fur covering him was torn aside.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

Harry was frozen flat on his back as the man loomed over him. His arms were up over his head, held by the wrists, in one of Lucius' large hands. The man brought up his other hand to Harry's face, holding his chin cupped. Forcing their eyes to meet. Brilliant green and melted silver. Harry shook with the intensity of that shared look. His skin burned in a nerve-rush all over.

"Watch me, kitten. Look at me. I am your alpha. You do not deny me." Lucius pressed in close, pinning Harry's hips with his own, pelvis to pelvis, his spine curved to hold Harry down. His arousal was growing. He felt the shiver of need, of hunger begin to grow. The boy was so good, hot and frightened, yet his heart hammered with the growing scent of desire. That desire scent, the pheromones filled the air. He heard the other kittens in the room shuffling in response. The scent arousing them as well.

"That is good. Yes. Surrender to me." Lucius slid one knee up between the young man's thighs. Up high, in tight to the undulating body, as Potter pushed against him, half panicking to be up and away, half needing more, so desperately wanting more. Lucius rode his soft belly, pressing his cock against the boy's silky abdomen, feeling Harry's answering erection.

Harry's legs fell open reluctantly, wide, wide, he couldn't fight it. His body was crying out for this kind of touch. For the hard riding of the big, solid shaft rhythmically running over the muscles of his stomach and his hip. 

Fluid wet him, through the silk the man still wore, small amounts, lubricating the way, the track the cock rode over his flesh, in counterpoint to the rough silk. His own arousal grew, throbbing painfully, aching for more stimulation. The man humping hard against him ignored it. Ignored the pleas buried in his whimpering.

Lucius pushed a second knee between the young man's thighs, and Harry tried to talk his body into squirming free, but it wouldn't cooperate.

"No, I haven't..." Harry whimpered feeling the man moving nearer, up in between his spread thighs. Too far, too close, to intimate. "No." Lucius growled at the word, and Harry subsided, eyes wild, chest rising and falling rapidly.

The were-leopard king pushed his knees up further, higher, until he rested long and demanding, flush up against Harry's softest and hardest parts, up between his widespread spread legs, his erection leaking in spurts of slick fluid. Harry gulped. Moaned, looking up into the fierce, beautiful face. His body trembled head to foot, in long shuddering waves. Each wave letting out a spurt of his pre-cum to splash on his already wet skin.

Lucius jostled the boy with his body, letting him feel his cock pressed to him tightly. Letting him know he could take him any way he wished. The youth's eyes rolled up into his head. 

Lucius looked down, raking his gaze over the naked body. Slim, but athletic. The nipples were already tight points, the young man's erection flushed, purpled, hard enough to cut rock. So the kitten was responsive, not indifferent to his touch. Good. Lucius let a pleased snarl grow on his face.

Lucius pushed down his pants, pulling his erection fully out into the air. He saw how Harry's eyes widened. No more silk fabric between them, just flesh to flesh. Good, let him look at it. Let him feel it. He grabbed Harry's chin again. Made the boy look at him, at his face, into his eyes. The flushed cheeks and open mouth were so tempting. The pink tongue waiting to be sucked. But Lucius did not bend down. This was not making love. This was claiming.

He was throbbing against the youth's belly, rubbing, rubbing, sliding in the dewed sweat and pre-cum from both of their bodies. Hearing how the boy begged and feeling how he squirmed as the alpha moved on him. Lucius bared his fangs, riding him faster, grinding into the kitten's sweet flesh. Welcoming flesh. Harry writhed under him, his voice nothing more than short gasps, begging moans. His legs gripping hard, up around the alpha's hips, now. Lucius was pleased.

"Yes, kitten. Move for me." He growled, feeling the release growing, a tingling rush moving up from his feet, down from his shoulders and rushing over him, until he shot his pleasure on the heaving belly beneath him. He stilled then. The boy remained hard, he had not attained his own peak. Lucius sat up, forcing the gripping legs to release him. Harry lay sprawled out, achingly erect. Panting. Pouring out the heat-scent.

"Please." Harry managed a coherent word. Repeated it. "Please." 

Lucius smiled. "Yes. You pleased me, kitten." He turned away.

Lucius beckoned one of the other young of his pride over. The tall, dark blond boy with amber-brown eyes. "Watch him, youngling. He is mine. No one else is to have him. Do you understand me?" His eyes glared fierce grey. The youngling nodded. 

"Yes, alpha. The kitten is yours." Blaise replied voice poised on the brink of baritone and tenor, his eyes meeting those of his alpha. His king. Lucius leaned in licked the youngling's cheek. A long, slow, leisurely lap. Blaise's eyes fluttered shut, his body going passive, quiescent under the touch. Lucius pulled away.

"Good." Lucius stripped off the soiled silk pants, dropping them on the floor. "Bring him to the gathering tonight. Unwashed. Wipe him off, but do not wash him. I want them all to smell him like he is. With my scent on him." And he walked out of the room.

Harry sobbed in distress.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

She was out of blood. It was a serious problem. She had so little leeway. The attacks had to be carefully timed and scheduled to follow her plan. 

Action had to be taken, immediately. Cautious, but necessary action, at once. She had hoped the boy would return on his own. He had not. Now it was a problem. When things were going so well, too.

The third attack had been perfect. She had struck with the precision of an accomplished hunter, one with years of experience. Taking out her prey with breathtaking ease. As great as the ease the real leopard king might use. The thrill still rang through her bones when she closed her eyes and envisioned it. And none the wiser. The boy had died, as she meant him to. No way to trace any thing back to her door.

The first attack had been the only one where she'd had any problems at all. But no one saw her then, either, and no one came after her. The Potter boy was gone, she'd looked for him, so there was nothing to concern her any longer. He was gone. He had not answered her call when she'd tried to call him. She felt no connection. He had disappeared. Perhaps he had died later. In any event he was no longer a threat.

But now it was all going to be put at risk. Unless she could acquire more blood. The first time it had been so easy. He had come to her, foolish boy. Asking for her help. Asking for answers to his questions, and she'd seen her chance, taken it. She'd told him what she needed to give her those answers. He never realized she'd needed none of it to answer him. The supplies were for her. To fulfill her plans.

And he'd actually sworn *her* to secrecy, foolish trusting child. She'd solemnly agreed not to tell anyone. Her word of honor. It was obviously meant to be. Not laughing in his face, that had been harder. Not dancing her triumph.

But now she was out of the blood she had to have. And now she needed to think on how to get more. Standing she walked over to her window. The sun was bright. The green field of the sports stadium was lush, vibrant. The grounds were lovely, she admitted that. But this place was a prison for a woman like her.

She hated it here. All those loud and obnoxious children. None of them showing any respect. Making fun of her behind her back. She had been relegated to this. Driven to this place by one small mistake. Discredited. It was patently unfair. She had worked for centuries to establish her reputation. Then at the height of her success...well any one can make a mistake. They'd asked her to leave as head of her department. And this was where she had ended up. That pip-squeak Dumbledore acting as if he was doing her a favor letting her teach his precious children. Pah. Idiots all.

She bit her lip focusing hard, muttering the seeing-spell under her breath. She saw him at once. Out there on his broom, whizzing around with the other members of his Quidditch team. Lithe, slender and beautiful. So graceful. His hair shining in the sun, like a moonstone. The green of his uniform a deeper but flatter color than the bright grass. 

She remembered when young men like him had flocked to her for different reasons. When he had first approached she thought, foolishly, that he was coming to her for....that. She knew she didn't look her age. Her body was still firm and young looking. But this was better. She didn't need sex. It never lasted. This was lasting. This was what she needed to prove how strong she still was. They'd all see how wrong they'd been to say she was a has been, that she was slipping, getting too old.

Turning from the window, she summoned one of the house elves. Jelli appeared almost at once. She handed the elf the folded bit of paper with the boy's name on the outside penned in her flowing script.

"Deliver this at once," she said, to the tiny pink creature. And turned back to her crystals and charts. The portents remained promising. She would prevail.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

It was a shame, Kaithas thought, that Draco was not going to be following in his father's footsteps. When the boy had been born, looking so much like his father, Kaithas had thought for sure that the boy would be turned once he came of age. 

It had not happened. Draco had inherited his mother's resistance to lycanthropy. He could not become one of them. The pride had mourned at Lucius' disappointment, grieving with their king.

The discovery had devastated Lucius. And had been the first step in alienating him from his human wife. Narcissa. She who had lied, when she said she had no reason she could not wed the lycanthrope king. She had known of her resistance. But she wanted him, the beautiful, so masculine king. Wanted him to love and desire her, wanted to wield his power with him, to do it she'd lied. So the son, Draco, he who should have been the heir was not. Lucius had never forgiven her the deception. Kaithas shook his head sadly.

Now the sudden gathering. All the pride called together. With a new member for the first time in a year. Potter. His turning had not been announced, no celebration held, because it had not been planned.

The new kitten sat at Lucius' feet. He had been brought here into the arena, naked, by the rest of the young-lings. No one gave him clothes, the king had not said he should have them. So the young-lings did not provide him any. His state of undress caused a ripple of sharpened interest to move throughout the vast room. The heat-scent wafted through the air.

Lucius gave no sign of noticing the boy was the only nude pride member. He'd tugged and the youth went down, his watcher, Blaise, at his back, cradling the thin boy in front of himself. Both young-lings sat on the furs piled to one side of the flat topped stone Lucius sat upon. Potter instantly pulled a part of the fur up over his lap. 

Both the young-lings heads rested on the king's sacred body. The Potter boy's on his knee. Blaise's on Lucius' strong left thigh. Absently, Lucius stroked one dark head, then the other one. Waiting for the arena to be filled. Using them like touchstones to calm himself. Center himself. His rage was a tang in the air, causing the assembled to shift in place nervously.

Amrys, the Des and Graeme, Lucius' Tres, entered the arena together. Two men with the same long, loping stride. Amrys' short dark blond colored hair standing out against Graeme's long, wavy brown-red locks. The thick, loosed hair of the Tres brushed the backs of his knees, kept away from his fine featured face by twists of hair at his temples held in silver clasps. 

Graeme's skin was a dozen shades paler than Amrys', the milky white of the northern reaches and the peoples who'd evolved there for millennia, adapting to the rays of the weaker sun. His blue eyes were dark blue, cobalt, like precious jewels or a sky leaving midnight behind to greet the earliest prelude to dawn. Amrys, while blond, had a darker skin, a skin that tanned easily, to a true golden brown.

Amrys lifted his head as he came closer, leaving Graeme to stand with some others. Amrys moved to Kaithas' side. His eyes traveling unerringly to the tableau at the king's rock. He scented the air, nostrils flaring. More and more heads were going up, smelling the semen of the king on the air. Zeroing in, and finding who wore the telling scent. Finding the sulky, green eyed kitten.

Graeme finished his conversation, and went to stand next to Lucius' right side, avoiding the young-lings. He went to one knee in greeting, bending his neck to his king. Lucius sank his hands into all that hair, pulling Graeme in closer, rubbing their faces together, then freeing the other were-leopard. Graeme stood, moving around to sit at Lucius' back, on the throne's edge. Silence fell in fits and starts. Attention focused on the throne.

Lucius waited for the eyes of his pride to fasten onto his face. He bared his fangs. His growl filled the arena. As one the pride went to the floor. Dropping to hands and knees, pressing their faces to the ground, abasing themselves before their angry king. Lucius looked out over them. His next growl had them sitting back on their heels, watchful. Every eye trained on him.

Lucius then transferred his gaze to the boy sitting next to him, stiff under the gaze of so many. He patted his thigh. The boy stared at him. Then frowned stubbornly. Shaking his head. The Potter boy's face was mulish. 

"No. I won't. I'm naked. You can't make me." He hissed defiantly through gritted teeth, hands clutching at the fur that was all that covered him. Kaithas raised his brows in amazement. Foolish but spirited. Soon to be corrected.

Lucius' brows shot up and the look he gave the kitten was incredulous. The little one had not learned that challenging him was an unwise endeavor. He would learn soon. 

Lucius reached down, knotting one hand in the hair at the back of the kitten's head, and locked the other one around the frail throat. He hauled the slim form up as if it were weightless. Drawing the bowed, struggling body across his lap, like a pieta, displaying all the writhing young one's charms.

Silken skin, so fresh, the marks of the assault all but gone, the pink blush tantalizing. The scent of the king, marking the youth, so tempting, making hundreds of mouths water with need. Hundreds of throats whine. 

Both of the young one's hands were at the king's wrist, clawing at the hold. Lucius held him firm, biceps bulging, more with anger than with effort. He spoke, tossing his long hair back from his face. His eyes hot.

"Look on this one." He said low. And the all the prides' eyes looked down at the kitten. Saw his fighting, drawing them to the struggle, to the desire to fight, and subdue the little one. To earn his submission.

"He is new, brand new. Turned by someone who did not seek my leave." Lucius' incandescent gaze went from face to face. His rage was growing, filling the arena with the quivering anticipation of violence. 

"Who among you turned him against my wishes? If it was one of you, one of my pride, I will discover you. Come forward now, and I will kill you quickly. If I must seek you out, the death will not be and easy one." He waited. His thumb moved over the kitten's cheek, caressingly.

There was no answering call. He looked around again. Measured each one he saw in silence. All of them met his gaze. None flinched. They knew he did not punish without reason, nor did he punish the obedient, or those innocent of crimes. They obeyed him, followed him, knelt to him. But did not fear him.

"Very well. We will find out who has done this. Each of you will hunt this dead one who is biting the innocents, until he is caught. There will be no exceptions. All the attacks have happened on the grounds of Hogwarts. But no matter where you are you will remain vigilant. Report everything to the Des or the Tres." Lucius shook Harry hard, still across his thighs.

"This one, by rights I should kill. He was made without sanction. He is an insult to me. I will accept no other insults. This one," he lifted Harry straight up in the air by the grip on his throat and hair, feet dangling, eyes wide with unconcealed terror. 

"This one is mine. No one shall touch him without my leave. No one shall permit another to touch him without my leave. You will all defend him. He is the belonging of your king." Lucius growled lowering the choking boy to his lap. Harry sagged, gasping to fill his starved lungs with fresh oxygen. Lucius petted him soothingly. A sound carried in from outside the arena.

Kaithas turned his head away from the display on the rock throne. There was a ripple of movement at the entrance to the arena. Amrys was moving that way, fast. The bitch was here, in the arena, uninvited. Worse, she had brought one of the young-lings with her, the one that had been turned last year at the request of his brothers. The bitch had collared him, now played her defiant games with him.

He followed her into the arena with the graceful stride of the young athlete he was. His hips swaying in unconscious seduction, clad in tight bronze shorts, his mouth was full, pink, succulent. He honestly had no awareness of his pale freckled allure. He held his head chin high, the tall collar forcing that, as she stopped in the entry way, knowing all eyes were moving to her. His cheeks were lit fiery red with humiliation. She had commandeered him, and he was too young to defy her.

She smiled at them all, showing her human teeth. Even the king paused to look in her direction, as did the boy draped down over his lap, head hanging so that he looked in the direction of the bitch, seeing upside down, face flushed with blood, chest heaving. The great emerald eyes blinked once, twice in disbelief, then he croaked out one word.

"Ron?"

And the collared young-ling saw him. Turned a darker red.

"Harry!" He cried in horror. "What are you doing here?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

She strode into the arena. Her demeanor that of a landholder surveying her fields. The sneer on her lip was her usual expression. Her long lissome body was clothed only in a thin skirt, from waist to knees. Her proud breasts were bare, nipples pale pink, taut. She reveled in the hush that filled the arena.

Gradually she allowed her gaze to traverse the room taking in the alert faces all fastened on her, until her gaze came to rest on Lucius. If any thing her eyes grew colder, haughtier than they had been. 

He sat back, relaxed, patient, uncaring, holding the kitten on his lap, absently stroking its fluttering belly. The boy objected to the attention, wriggling but not able to win free. Lucius smiled indulgently at the squirming, holding the young-ling pinned quite easily.

"Be still," He ordered mildly. One hand lifted the boy and turned him so he sat upright in the king's lap, held in the circle of one powerful arm. The kitten wisely stilled, watching her with big, wary eyes. Appropriately suspicious.

She smiled at that. Then she started forward with the Des trailing at her side, shepherding her. She pulled the young-ling behind her, tugging on the hated leash. He followed her, but she felt his resistance here, where the rest of the pride could see him. She wished she dared to strike out at Amrys. Punish him for his insolence, for shadowing her as if she was not one of them. Show him his place. But she didn't dare. 

"Brother." She breathed as she came to a stop in front of the rock. She showed him her teeth again. The damned, blunt human teeth. Because he had forbidden that she be turned. Even though she had given birth to the heir, when his wife had been discovered to be cursed. She had been the one to continue the bloodline, not him. She should be on the throne now, not him. Prophecy be damned.

"Sister." He rumbled back at her. All lazy, silver and gold tones, muscles gleaming. His eyes wandered over the young-ling she had leashed. "Why have you leashed one of my young-lings?" 

He did not believe in the leash. He failed to recognize it as the useful tool it was. She used it also because of his dislike of it. He held out his hand, commanding her without words to turn the young-ling over to him.

"You have your own playtoy, brother. Why do you seek mine?" She sighed, delaying the turnover. Wanting to anger him sitting so self-righteous on her throne. She ran the lead through her hands, stroking it suggestively. "Will you trade?" Her eyes went to the new one. She did not recognize it. But to be actually on the king's lap, it had to be valuable.

"No, sister. I will not." He told her. His grey eyes examining her, still not angry, despite her need to anger him. He turned his face and rubbed his cheek along the kitten's chin, lifting its chin, and nipping its neck. The kitten let out a squeak. For some reason she could not fathom, the noise triggered her rage.

She hissed and threw the end of the leash at his face. Graeme, her brother's long haired slut, steeped up and caught it, gently tugging the young red-haired man to him and unclipping the end. Then he pulled the boy back behind the throne and went to work on the elaborate collar. She smirked at his efforts. The collar was one of her favorite kind, it would need to be cut off, or bitten off if a leopard had exceptional skill with its teeth.

"Why are you here, Andromeda?" The were-leopard king asked once more.

"I am the Mother of the heir, are you inferring I have no rights to be here?" She spat out at him. She waved an arm around the massed lycanthropes. They crept forward on hands and knees, eying her displayed curves hungrily, tongues licking at lips.

"You are the Mother of the heir, you are honored for that. But you are not one of us, it is not your place to be here in our place of gatherings. This is pride business, Sister. So I ask you again, why are you here? Here where you do not belong?" He growled at her voice going lower, eyes half-closed, as if he drowsed.

She gnashed her teeth at him, throwing up her hands. "Once again you deny me. Threaten me, allow them to threaten me. You sit there all high and mighty, on the throne that belongs to me..." she yelled at him, jumping towards him. He looked at Amrys, never flinching. She felt her arms seized and screamed loud and long.

"It is not your destiny to sit on the throne," Lucius retorted. "The seers selected me..."

"Before I was born! Before I was born, Lucius. Once I was born they should have been asked again. You could not even give the pride its next king and yet, you will not agree to let me take the place the heir's mother should hold by tradition." She fought the Des' hold on her, trying to rake his flesh with her file sharpened nails.

"Stop it. I don't want to hurt you." Amrys hissed at her under his breath. She paid him no heed. All her glares focused on her brother.

"I will not marry you, Sister. That is the position of which you speak. It is not possible that you should have it, tradition or no." Lucius told her. "I will not lie with you to satisfy your ambition, Sister mine."

"It is mine! The throne is mine! You cannot deny me! I demand the place that is mine. I demand the right to be turned, to be one of the pride!" She howled at him. He looked down at the kitten in his arm. He petted the youth with the back of his fingers.

"Out." Lucius said mildly. Not looking up.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

Harry squirmed.

"Stop it, Blaise," he hissed at his school mate who was now plastered against him. The were leopard young-ling groaned.

"I am not doing anything, Harry. Just go to sleep. I swear, I thought Lucius was doing me an honor having me look after you! You are so prickly. Just go to sleep!" Blaise sighed into Harry's hair. Not backing away.

"Stop touching me! You're naked!" Harry whispered fiercely, trying not to wake the others sharing the same sleeping furs. When they woke they always wriggled closer.

Blaise sighed. "So are you, Harry. So are they. That is how we sleep. Naked. It doesn't mean anything, except that we are pride. Get over it."

"I can't." Harry said back, confiding in the other student, using a low hiss. "I keep thinking we're at Hogwarts and somebody is going to walk in and find us like this."

"Wouldn't that be grand." Blaise chuckled, unable to resist a huge grin, getting some of Harry's hair stuck in his mouth. "Old Snape would have a heart seizure. Or, I guess in your case, McGonnagall."

Harry had to admit that was pretty funny, picturing Snape finding the five of them in a sleeping pile of tangled naked bodies. Himself, Blaise, Ron, and the twins, Fred and George. But McGonnagall,...Harry shuddered. Not funny. Not funny at all. Blaise had told him there was another former Hogwarts student who was pride, Oliver Wood. But he and the black haired Troy were sleeping elsewhere tonight.

"Last year it was me, Troy and Ron that were turned. They tried to turn Draco again, but no way, he can't be turned, poor lad. Year before, it was Wood and the twins." Blaise said, his breath blowing warmly over Harry's shoulder.

"What about Stephan?" Harry asked, puzzled about the other young-ling he'd met. He was sure Stephan wasn't from Hogwarts.

"Naw, Stephan came into the pride with his father. Muggles, they were. Lucius accepted them but Stephan was turned elsewhere, in another pride first." Blaise snuggled closer, pressing bare skin along his pride mate's side. 

"Hey!" Harry yelped, jerking away. "Watch it!"

"Oh, Harry! Relax. I'm just trying to get warm. Comfortable. You heard Lucius. We aren't going to touch you *that* way." Blaise half-whined.

"Yeah, well your're still bare-ass, and so am I. Don't want to feel all your dangly bits against me like that, now do I? Why'd you want to lay so close?" Harry grumbled, wondering if he was making too much of it.

Blaise's snort was incredulous. "Because it's warm and nice. And I'm tired." He said as if to a very slow student.

"And because if you two don't shut up and sleep, Fred and me are going to pound you." A drowsy voice said from behind Blaise. "Merlin, Harry. Just go to sleep. Ask your questions tomorrow."

"Heave over," another voice interrupted, as someone stood up and moved to Harry's other side. It was Fred. "Stephan's come back. Make room." And he crawled in next to Harry. So the green eyed Gryffindor was hemmed in on two sides now. Fred wiggled until his bottom was securely up against Harry's hip, and then he shoved his foot between Harry's own. With that accomplished he let out a gusty sigh. And went boneless. He was snoring softly within two breaths.

"Why aren't there any girls?" Harry wondered out loud. Not that he'd want to be like this, naked, with a bunch of girls. He'd die of embarrassment.

"Girl's are special, Harry. They carry on the blood line. You don't get to touch the girls unless the king tells you you can. And you don't ever turn one of them, not even by mistake. If you turn them they can't have children. The change makes them lose the baby on the full moon." It was George answering, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Now go to sleep!"

"But, what about Ron and that woman? She was pulling him around on a lead!" Harry protested.

"Her?!" It was Ron's squeak, Harry hadn't known he was awake and listening. "You don't think I'd do that with Her? I'd lose my parts!"

"She's the Mother of the heir, Harry." George said, warningly. "Best not to think of her like that."

"I'm not!" Harry protested. "But, Ron came in with her, like that! What d'ya expect me to think?"

"It'd drop off if you tried to put in in her," Stephan offered from the far side of the fur bed. "If Amrys or Graeme didn't tear it off first."

"Naw, not Graeme, he's pussy cat. It's Amrys you are going to have to watch for." Ron said into the momentary lull.

"You're dreaming. Just 'cause he pets you up sometimes." George said with a snort. "Don't know who you are talking about, but it's not that Graeme the rest of us know, you'd better watch out for him too, Harry."

"Why? What'll he do?" Harry quizzed, curious.

"Lucius is the pride's king. Graeme and Amrys are his Third and his Second. If there's bad shit to handle, they'll be the ones who'll handle it." George told him. "Best stay out of their way. Both of them, no matter what Ron says."

"Why not Lucius? Why do they do all the fighting and stuff?"

"Because if he fights you, he's likely to kill you. There is a reason he is the king, Harry." George replied with a sigh.

"He didn't kill me the other day. He just...I mean...hit me." Harry said.

"Yeah."Blaise said. "And shot a load all over you. He claimed you." The tone was more than a little jealous. Harry gaped at the other young man.

"You want him to do that to you?" Harry blurted out, shocked.

"It's not sex, kitten, it's claiming. Grow up! It's like he owns you now, even more than he has the rest of us." George told the younger youth.

"Has he ever...."

"Not me." Blaise said.

"Me, either." Ron and Stephan said at the same time.

"He's had Fred like that. Not me though." George said, last.

Harry frowned. "Why just me and Fred?"

"No idea, mate." Fred sighed. "Now go to sleep, would ya?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

Lucius looked up as Amrys and Graeme walked into his resting room. The long haired man preceded the short haired one. Lucius did not see why at first, then Amrys moved out from behind the Tres.

Amrys was covered with clots, smears and streaks of dried blood. He met Lucius' eyes hotly. Lucius sighed inwardly.

"Your blood or her blood?" The leopard king asked. Letting his gaze run over the body of his Des, searching for the wounds, cataloging how much blood there was. He held out a hand, rising to his feet. He led the two other lycanthropes into the private bathing area.

"Mostly not mine, she was cut, so some is hers, the largest measure is from those who demanded the opportunity to correct each other's view of her place in the pride." Amrys admitted wryly, trailing after his king. Lucius gestured for him to sit.

Amrys sat on the edge of the deep pool, dangling his feet into the water and Graeme lay on the stone lip, stretching out his long, lithe body. Lucius reached for a towel and wet it. Began bathing the body of his second.

"How many wished to correct one another? And how were you wounded? Did she wound you?" Lucius asked as he used the wet cloth to clean away the blood, running it over every inch of visible skin. Graeme watched with half-closed eyes. His hair was spread out around him across the rough stone floor, like a cape of copper-red waves.

"She had a knife hidden in her skirt, she struck one of those who disagreed with her view. I removed the knife, but the fight was on by then. No weapons, teeth and claws only. Some of the younger pride members, not skilled fighters yet. She lashed out with the knife. She cut me before I knocked it away. Shallow, not serious, my king. She splashed me with her own blood. And then I separated the fighters." Amrys tried to sound nonchalant, but Lucius shook his head and Amrys hung his.

"How many fought?" The king asked.

"Six. Their injuries are painful, but not fatal, my king. I made certain they would remember the cost of fighting." Amrys told the taller, heavier man, jaw set.

"Were you inattentive? Distracted from the fight, that you were injured yourself?" Lucius moved the cloth over the cuts, bathing them thoroughly. He nodded towards the water. 

"In." He ordered. His sister was not above using poison to taint her knife. Unlikely as she also cut herself, and would in any case suffer more than any lycanthrope she cut, but not impossible. She was devious, and determined that she would eventually get her way. Amrys obeyed the order, slipping into the water and letting it soak into his skin, his cuts stinging mildly. He answered Lucius' question.

"No. They were determined to inflict damage. On each other and on me. I did not want to permit them to harm her or to let her harm herself by attacking them. She is the heir's Mother." Now the defiance, made necessary by the knowledge he had made an error in judgment. Lucius leaned down and pulled Amrys nearer so he could continue to clean the wounds. He said nothing for a few long minutes, letting Amrys stew.

Lucius had found the lacerations under the blood, a thin streak across the top of Amrys' chest, long scratches down his arms, a faint one across his throat. Not serious, that was true. But....Lucius pursed his lips hard. His eyes were hot silver when he looked up.

"And if she precipitated the fight did she not deserve to take some of the damage? Am I in error to presume she egged the fighters on? I will not have you take the consequences of her actions, Des. That is not what role you play, are we understood?" Lucius said quietly, firm. His hand gripped the tanned face, turned it so their eyes met, and held, the shared gaze holding great weight.

"Yes, my king." Amrys admitted reluctantly, looking into the eyes of his king. Lucius grimaced at the hangdog expression, the shame. He dunked his Des under the surface of the water. Held him under for a split second. Then let him rise, short hair dripping. Graeme regarded them upside down, face solemn. One leg now dangled into the pool.

"I can not have such things happening." Lucius said. "Not even to protect the person of the heir's Mother. Next time you will not risk damage from protecting her from her own foolishness. It is not a minor thing. She seeks to undermine my power. You are a large part of that power, Amrys. She will not succeed in her attempts to remove you." Lucius reminded the man.

"I understand, my king." Amrys answered immediately. He raised his hand up to place it over the one that still held his chin.

"I should not need to tell you this. You are listening Graeme?" The king asked sternly.

"I am listening, my alpha." Graeme replied silky smooth. He blinked his blue eyes with deceptive laziness and rolled onto his stomach.

"Good. I will not expect to tell you again." Lucius tossed the bloodstained towel aside. "There has been a witness found to the last attack and killing. She swore under veritaserum that she saw me walk from the site." Lucius looked up to meet their intent eyes. He saw shock on both faces.

"She passed the questioning, she is telling the truth. Dumbledore has expressed his... concern." Lucius' lips curled, baring one long fang.

"Lucius?" Graeme asked, no longer reclining, but upright. Brow wrinkling in worry. he crept closer on all fours, sinuous, graceful instead of human-ly awkward.

"I can not explain it. But, I know it was not me, not under spell, nor compulsion. It is not possible. And I have more than enough witnesses to that effect. I was at the gathering when this one attack occurred. I am not so great a wizard that I could fool so many. I could not be the two places at once. I have told Dumbledore of this. He has confirmed it with interrogation of some of the pride. He is satisfied for now." The leopard king, snarled silently. "But, I will not allow some one to continue to impersonate me. And to kill while in my guise."

The three heads suddenly lifted in unison and turned towards the doorway. Lucius stood. 

"Yes, Tanith?" He called out, "I am here." An older woman came into the doorway of the bathing room. Her dark hair was touched with grey, her face lightly lined with he marks of age.

"Sire," She bowed her neck to him. He returned the gesture.

"I am not the Sire, Seer Tanith. I am merely the king. I am not the Father of the heir." He reminded her, but gently, with indulgence.

"But for a cruel trick played on you, you would be Sire." She corrected him without rancor. Her chin lifted.

He smiled at her with honest affection. "How may I help you, Seer?"

"Three of the human women have come to me. They seek to be turned. They say it is only right that they be given the right to choose, just as the men are given." The Seer responded.

"And have they children among them? Are they barren?" Lucius inquired. Watching her face as she answered him.

"Between them there are four children. One is barren, she has not bred despite attempts to carry. The medi-witch is certain she can not." Tanith told him, she watched as Graeme stirred and reached out to run a hand over Amrys' back while the Des floated in the pool.

"The one who is barren, does she have your support?" He took in her nod. "Then she may have the choice. The other two I will meet with. Bring them to me tomorrow. I will decide. Is there more, Seer?"

"No. No more, Sire." She inclined her head. He reached out and cupped her face with genuine affection.

"Then I have more personal matters to see to. My son is approaching." He had one ear cocked, picking up the light footsteps of his human son.

 

Draco passed the stout woman leaving his father's resting room. She inclined her head in a motion so at ease, it was regal. He returned her nod. Tanith, the female's Seer. She had been a second mother to him when he was young, before his mother's deception had been found out. Now, they passed each other without speaking. There was no anger there, just overwhelming sorrow and disappointment. The pain was too great for them to be at ease with one another.

"Draco." His father embraced him. Draco saw the blood on his arms.

"What has happened?" The young man exclaimed, anxiously.

"It is less than nothing. Do not worry. Would you care to bathe?" Lucius offered.

"No. I came to see my Mother. But I wanted to visit you first. I have missed seeing you. I have to get back to Hogwarts soon. The Headmaster has a curfew set."

"Yes. Though the attacks have not occurred late at night it seems a wise precaution. Take an escort with you when you return. I wish them to remain with you until the killer is caught." Lucius held his son against him.

"I will be fine." Draco assured his father. 

"I wish you to be safe." Lucius insisted. "Take them. Perhaps, Yaji and Mantheer?" He named off two of Draco's favorites. The two men doted on him. Treated him as royalty. Spoiled him at every opportunity.

Draco mock sighed. "Oh well, if I must." His grin belied his words. 

"Good." Lucius smoothed the pale hair of his son back off his forehead. "Use caution. Trust no one. Now I must attend to the problems of the pride...." He leaned in and kissed Draco's cheek.

Draco fought to keep the spike of pain off of his face. Once he would have been included. As training to take over the pride some day. He forced the hurt away as he watched Lucius disappear into the bathing room.

As he turned to leave, Draco saw the bloodied towel. He fought down his guilt as he grabbed it and wrapped it in his robe to conceal it. 

Professor Trelawny's vision had prophesied that it was possible for him to be turned once his curse was lifted. To do that she needed the blood of Draco's father. Her spell would weaken his mother's blood within his body, and strengthen his father's. Thus the curse would fall. And Draco would be turned. Draco would be the heir, and his father would no longer be disappointed in him. He hurried out of the room.

 

Andromeda held the scrying bowl in her two hands. She set the brimming bowl on the altar. Very carefully she measured out three tiny drops of the serum. And she waved her wand over the suddenly milky surface. She blew a breath across the surface and whispered the name of the one she sought. 

"Syyybbiiill........." She breathed, more a thought than a sound. And the features of the Hogwarts' divination's teacher appeared in the surface of the water.

"Draco has obtained more blood, He is bringing it to you."

The worried lines on the professor's face smoothed out, and she smiled. "Ah, good. Our plan is moving along well. Very well indeed."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The long pale-furred, tawny were-cat padded silently through the corridors of the Manor.  
Its sleek sides rippled and bunched with muscle as it went. Its fur was the exact shade of its hair color as a man, but even softer now, like silken silver-gold threads. The rosettes that decorated his fur were a palest brown, like faint shadows on his blond fur. Large, grey eyes regarded everything with sharp observance, as he traversed his home. 

Behind him, in the room he had left, his second and third slept on, two big feline bodies curled warmly together after a long night spent talking and problem solving. Amrys was entirely healed after changing to his leopard form. The change always healed minor injuries and healed the major ones more rapidly that they would heal if Amrys stayed in human form. Graeme had spent time grooming his friend and now was wrapped around him like a blanket.

Lucius watched the others he encountered as he went. Mostly his guardians, the night watchers, guarding those who were asleep. A few late night/early morning stragglers, or those running from furs to furs. He smiled at that. The same urge had struck him just now. He was headed to satisfy that urge, as well as to check on the well-being of his newest kitten.

Lucius arrived in the sleeping room his young-lings used and entered soundlessly, walking over to the furs, still in were-cat form. Two of the young-lings remained in the sleeping pile, the others having gotten up and moved on for the rest of the night or all ready up for the morning.

A sniff told him who the red-haired one was, the twin Fred and the other was his newest kitten, Harry. That was good, his two marked ones. The big leopard crawled into the furs between the two warm bodies, stretched out long and comfortable. 

Lucius stuck his muzzle into the salty, sweet throat of the new kitten, nuzzled him, let his tongue flick out for a sensuous taste. Slow lick. Wonderful flavor of skin, sweat, and sleeping youth. He squirmed closer. Lucius proceeded to bathe both of the sleeping young men with delicate, lazy strokes of his tongue. Fred smiled and stretched into the wet lapping caresses, understanding what it was even as he dozed.

Harry woke with a start, something....he turned, and let out an abbreviated screech. A hand over his mouth stopped the sound from growing to ear splitting range. Fred pressed close to him, whispering soothing noises to him. Harry saw the leopard in front of him and opened his mouth to yell out for help.

"Hush. It is our king. He visits us. It is an honor." Fred scolded him, calmly. "You got it under control now?" He asked suspiciously when he saw Harry's eyes still wide, startled. Harry shivered as the licking resumed, the cat bending its head back to its chosen task. Fred sighed blissfully as the tongue traveled from Harry to Fred's own skin. His hand relaxed, eased from Harry's face.

Harry nodded. And Fred removed his hand all the way. Harry gasped almost sitting upright. The cat turned over, long tail dragging over the young man's skin. It rippled, Harry blinked. The cat became a man. Became Lucius Malfoy. Harry's eyes couldn't get any larger. They were two blinking green saucers.

Lucius snaked an arm around Fred, pulled him nearer, under his body. Fred went willingly, his arms snaking around the torso of his king. They rubbed along the length of their bodies. Fred arching into the larger man, surrendering control happily. Harry watched and started to edge away. Lucius' arm reached out, snagged a-hold of him, kept him pressed to the two melded bodies. 

Lucius spread his young-ling's legs, moved up between them, as Fred moaned his eagerness. Fred's hips rose to meet Lucius' thrusts, their erections sliding together, leaking. Growing wetter and slicker rapidly. Lucius continued licking over Fred's face and neck. He moved on to Harry after he had thoroughly covered Fred's available skin.

Harry tried to tense, tried to move away, but the long slow licks were mesmerizing, addictive. Pleasurable. Fantastic, arousing. Harry fought against the urge he had to lean in to the lapping strokes and he lost. He ended up flat on his back under the leopard king's mouth. 

Fred let out a cry, panted, writhed and peaked when Lucius growled out his own release. Lucius held Harry next to them, the youth squirming, feeling the moving bodies intimately, his own growing interest hard against the other men's hips. Harry groaned, small and needful, when the other two orgasmed, just short of his own pleasure. Lucius slid over, wetting Harry's skin with the mixed semen from his and Fred's orgasm.

Harry had to see, had to feel, wanting and needing more. This time he wanted his own release. Needed it desperately. But Fred was drifting off back to sleep. Harry whimpered, Lucius looked into the big green eyes, his face moving closer. He kissed the kitten. Long and deep. Driving his tongue into the seeking mouth, sucking on it, feeding on Harry's desperate desire.

Harry rode Lucius' thigh, the king supporting him, a hand lifting and holding them close, letting the kitten ride him. Harry gasped, so close, so close. He cried out, finally, finally reaching satisfaction, coming hard, in pulsing jets all along Lucius' thigh. 

'Oh, god, at last.' Was Harry's thought before he curled up and slept, wedged between the two larger bodies.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

Professor Trelawny found herself in a quandary. Draco had brought in blood, just as he'd agreed to. But it had been soaked in a towel. God, she'd nearly screamed at him in frustration at the idiocy. Essentially unusable in the state it was delivered to her. Yet, there was no alternative but to make the specimen usable somehow.

She was reduced to using spring water to wash the blood out of the fabric, collecting it in a large cauldron. Then she did a drying and concentrating spell, slow and painstaking work. She couldn't risk boiling the cauldron, the blood might be adulterated if she did. So she had to wait. Watch the precious minutes ticking by.

That stupid boy! She could hardly credit that he'd brought her a blood soaked towel. He should have known she needed a better sample. But if she waited for a new one the time-line would be off. And Andromeda Malfoy might not be so willing to help her next time. Andromeda had her own agenda and time-line to keep. Sybil was on her own unless she could make this work, and soon.

What she should do, she thought, as she labored over the cauldron, was find some rat blood, and mix that up in the potion she was preparing for Draco. Make the brat pay for this. Transfigure him into a rodent. Permanently, if possible. See how the great were-cat Malfoy liked having a rat for a son. Maybe he'd eat him before he figured it out. She actually smiled at that. 

Finally Trelawny had an ounce of blood distilled and filtered. She felt a surge of triumph over her success. Carefully she decanted the blood into a vial and set about cleaning the cauldron she was going to use for the blood-polyjuice potion. That completed, she set out all of her supplies, then went to purify herself.

Back to her private lab in less than half an hour, Trelawny began the potion. Her door was secured, the lights shielded, the room sound proofed. No one would disturb her, not even Draco. She had told him the potion was complex, that she needed time to get it just right. He was waiting for her to contact him. To meet him at the prearranged place at the prearranged time.

The ingredients went in at precisely the right intervals despite her need to hurry. She stirred the brew with infinite patience learned from a long life of divination, learning to wait for the visions that would tell all, not to rush them, or force them. She took the same care with this. 

If she'd had the inclination, she could have been as good as the other Hogwarts' victim of the churlish and ungrateful students, Professor Snape. But Potions had never caught her interest the same way that reading the future had. 

Divining what was to come, reading people's fate. She'd had the necessary sympathy to do the task. She'd cared deeply, advising the sometimes difficult clients and offering solutions they rarely took. Their loss. It was not her problem that they, by their failure to listen and act, failed to grasp their promised fates. One had to work to make things happen. Destiny required effort.

The potion was just as thick, just as viscous, just as smelly. She steeled herself to drink it, gulping it quickly, wanting to have what it gave her. Power. Respect. Fear. 

There had been true fear on the faces of the miserable students she'd confronted and killed. Mind-numbing fear, fear that froze them in their tracks, fear so great that she felt a rush of satisfaction, of delight course through her at the simple memory of it. She'd held their fates in her hands, uh, paws, and she'd made their futures for them. She had seen death for them. Her predictions had, naturally, some true. She was, after all, a visionary.

She drank the potion when it was ready, hot, steaming, bubbling in the beaker. Then she waited.

The rush was stronger this time. Her skin crawled, morphed, itched more intensely. She shuddered. The blood impurities had to be the reason. But she waited. It would work, she sensed it. She knew it would work. She would take care of the problem for Andromeda this night. She would take care of Draco, son of Lucius. She would break the spirit of the were-leopard king by slaughtering his son, leaving only a bloody heap of flesh to be found. Then she would take his place as king of his animal-people. She bared her teeth in satisfaction.

 

Draco walked from his dormitory and out onto the darkening grounds. Professor Trelawny had told him to wait here for a quarter of an hour just after sunset. Draco had looked sunset up in his grimoire and timed his arrival to the minute. He waited, out of sight, not wanting un-needed and undesired questions.

A dragging sound caught his attention. At hearing a crackling in the brush, he pushed up off the wall he rested against. The sounds grew louder, and another joined them, a horrible moaning sound, low but unbelievably chilling, like an animal or person in such pain as to be driven beyond human sounds. His hair raised and he inched further onto the path, back towards the buildings of Hogwarts' main hall, permitting himself unfettered access to escape.

Draco had grown up around shape-shifters all his life. There were many varieties. Feline, his personal favorite for obvious reasons, canine, rodent, and rarer forms, like seals, dolphins, that sort of thing. But he'd never seen anything resembling the horror that shambled with desperate and ungainly haste toward him now.

Blond haired, pale as ice in the dark, corpse pale, waxy skin, half human and half lycanthrope face, half male, half female. Fangs protruding, obscene in the humanoid mouth. Bristling with devouring menace, eyes crazed, and clawed hands reaching out to grasp at his shirt, lurching closer. Drool ran down the pointed chin, the familiar eyes...he couldn't quite make sense of them, couldn't place them, not in conjunction with the awful thing they were combined with. It dragged itself towards him far too fast. Instant adrenaline pumped through him. Fight or flight, his body asked. Flight won, hands down.

Draco screamed and ran, the scrabbling claws not finding sufficient purchase to stop him in his agitated flight.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

Mantheer groaned, rolling over until he lay supine on the floor. His head was pounding like a big, bass drum was stuck inside, banging away. Merlin, what a migraine. He struggled and managed to sit up, carefully rotating his head on his stiff neck. The bones creaked, muscles shuddering.

He had no doubts as to what had happened. The catnip tea prepared for him as a courtesy, well, something a little stronger had been added to it before he and Yaji drank it. Obvious enough. By Draco. The son of his king. A young man he had trusted. The young man he adored.

Yaji was out cold, his breathing more of a rough, irregular snore than the usual quiet inhalation and exhalation as he slept. He'd taken the lion's share of the tea that Draco had offered them. Mantheer had taken only a third of it.

The big, brown haired man was flat on his back, arms akimbo, mouth open, slack. Mantheer crawled woozily over to him, leaned across to check him, cringed back at the smell of his breath. Yech, what ever drug it had been, it left behind a foul stench. Come to think of it, his own mouth tasted bad. Very bad.

A scream split the air. Mantheer's head jerked up, he tried to gain his feet, wobbling, cursing his lack of coordination and balance. Fell. Tried again. Fell for a second time, or possibly a third as he surely hadn't lain on the floor willingly, not while in human form. Another scream, in a voice he knew, running feet coming this way, lightning fast. Draco. The fear scent preceded him. A sour taint.

Mantheer grit his teeth, stayed on his hands and knees, forced the change to come to him. It ripped through him, heightening his nausea at first, then eliminating it in a rush of power and adrenaline. He was ready to fight as the young man in question broke into the room, panic written in every line of him. Sweat coursed down the youth's unnaturally pale face.

Draco flew straight at Mantheer once he'd seen the massive, black coated leopard. Throwing himself at the cat-man. Grasping, frantic arms grabbed onto Mantheer tight enough to restrict his blood flow. He turned, swiveling his body to protect Draco from whatever might follow and come barreling through the open doors, baring his formidable fangs, arching his back. 

But nothing pursued the boy. Mantheer gradually relaxed, let his muscles loosen, let his body ease back to human form enough to hold out his arms and enfold Draco in a calming embrace. The young man was sobbing, terrified. Reeking with the unpleasant stench of fear. Mantheer petted him, alternately speaking and purring at him to ease his terror.

"What has frightened you like this? After you went to all the trouble of drugging us? Now you are afraid? Of what, kitten?" Mantheer rumbled, not forgetting to check for sounds out in the hall. Nothing, no unknown sounds, but there were feet hurrying along the corridor. A dozen of them. All human. All coming to this room, unless Mantheer misjudged them.

"Malfoy! What in Merlin's name?" It was the strong voice of the Head of Slytherin, Professor Snape. The man who smelled of herbs and bugs all the time. Mantheer pushed the door open with one toe. He continued to cradle the distraught boy in his arms. His expression was bland, his brows were not. 

And it was echoed by the impassive man in the doorway, wand clasped firmly at the ready, behind him, children's faces craning to see around him. Snape shooed them away, impatiently.

The dark eyes took in the figure of the snoring lycanthrope on the floor. And the half-man, half-cat holding Draco. His nose twitched. He sniffed at the rancid odor in the air.

"Who has been using..." he wrinkled his impressive nose, "pep-away and....catnip?" The last was incredulous. He waved at the air with a long, pale hand, grimacing in disgust. Clearly deciding Mantheer was no threat. Not wrapped up in Draco the way he was.

"It..." Draco managed, stuttering. "It...it...it...."

Snape's dark eyes slitted, his lips parting in a hiss. "It?"

"The thing that has attacked and killed the others?" Mantheer exclaimed in sudden understanding. "Did you see it? Where was it?"

"I...I...I..." Draco swallowed. "It...it was out on...on the grounds b-b-by the courtyard." He wheezed out the information. 

Mantheer thrust Draco into the arms of his professor. 

He sped out into the darkening night, following his nose more than Draco's directions. He found its spoor. Confusing. Many smells. Familiar but not familiar. Scents which in combination raised the hair at his nape. He could not follow the trail far. Because it wasn't the same one he'd found at first.

The scent changed, mutated too often. It began to blend with the scents of others, pure, clean scents, the scents of children. No more fear scent. It had not been seen, or if it had been, it was no longer frightening to the students. His hackles bristled, warningly. It was not a natural creature, this one. It stank of evil spells and dark magic.

Mantheer gave up tracking the thing at last. He returned to Draco's room in the Slytherin dormitory. Draco could very well be lying dead right now while he and Yaji slept on in drugged oblivion. The escape had been luck, and only that.

Snape was the only one still in the room with Draco and Yaji when Mantheer reached the rrom. Yaji was crouched over a pail, emptying his stomach of the remainder of the tea he'd ingested. His long leopard's tail thumped the floor miserably. The rest of him was human.

Mantheer strode right over to Draco. He stood for a moment, absolutely still, trying to control his rage. He didn't want to do real harm to the foolish young man. But, he did intend to punish him for the near fatal stunt. 

He reached down with careful man-hands. Picked Draco up. Gently sitting down, draping the boy over his lap. He then proceeded to spank him, hard, firm and with authority. His hand rose and fell.

Draco. 

Would. 

Never. 

Do anything. 

Like this. 

Ever. 

Again. 

Draco wailed.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 

Lucius slammed both fists onto the top of the table. The heavy mahogany table shook with the force of the blows. He roared, head thrown back. The three men in the room with him remained where they were, with a little extra effort, muscles tight. When he looked back down, his eyes had changed, gone fierce and bestial.

When those eyes fell on him, Yaji chose to kneel down next to the table, at Lucius' feet. Lucius instinctively acknowledged the move, reaching out one hand, touching the bowed head. No rage was in his hand until it left the soft hair of his leopard-guardian. Then it became a fist. Graeme and Amrys stayed on their feet, Graeme closest to the door, Amrys only a few feet away from Lucius. Both men wary, poised to react.

"Bring him to me." The leopard king, growled, lifting his eyes to Amrys', but his hand going once more to touch Yaji, so the man knew who the order went to. His lips were drawn back from his teeth. Yaji, the guard who had just given the report on the happenings at Hogwarts, rose to his feet in a rush of liquid motion and moved towards the door.

"He has already been punished, Lucius." Amrys murmured, raising a hand to stop Yaji in mid-step. The large guardian did stop, but he looked back over his shoulder at Lucius as he did so. Amrys shifted, trying to draw Lucius' attention, his feral eyes, to himself.

"Who is king? Is Amrys your king, Yaji? Is that why you hesitate to obey my command? Why can Amrys stop you from carrying out my order?" Lucius snarled, his pale-fire gaze moving between the two men, his shoulders rolling forward, giving him a menacing, ready to leap posture.

"No, alpha. You are my king." Yaji's voice was full of awe and conviction, as he met his king's gaze, unflinching. "I obey you."

Amrys cut in, his short hair ruffled by the way he was running his fingers through it. "Lucius! Wait, I beg of you. Wait until you have calmed. Draco is human. He is not one of your cats. He is far more vulnerable."

"And he might well have died! You can not be more vulnerable than that. Irresponsible. He drugged the guards I sent to protect him. Poisoned Yaji here with the size of the dose. If Yaji were human, he would be dead. Draco is a wizard and adult. He should not make these kind of errors. When he does there must be consequences. He nearly got himself killed trying to meet his professor to get some unsanctioned spell or potion to turn himself into a were-leopard. All without my approval, actually in opposition to me. He has assaulted my people, my leopards. How can I not punish him for it?" The king spat out, his fingers and hands morphing into clawed paws, digging deep furrows into the top of the table with a screeching sound as the wood gave way.

"He is your son! He is not a lycanthrope. He wishes to be one. All his life he has wanted to be what you wanted. Your heir. He is young. He made a mistake. Mantheer has already punished him. He acted as a child trying to live up to the dreams of his father, he was punished as a child this night. Let it be enough, I beg of you." Amrys pleaded, shifting to reposition himself. 

Lucius snarled, swiping his arm out, sending everything on top of the table within reach crashing to the floor, or against the far wall. Amrys stepped forward, hesitant, hands out away from his sides. 

Graeme actually moved away, into the hall and motioned to the group of unhappy lycanthropes who were standing there. Mantheer was among them, Draco clinging to his arm, his light blue eyes huge in his white face. Draco looked up into Graeme's unfriendly face.

"Find Fred Weasley, or that Potter kit." Graeme told a man standing on the periphery of the group. "Hurry!" 

Perhaps Lucius' rage could be diverted into another urge. A craving still physical but, far less dangerous. As if the boy, Draco, deserved to have such a thing done for him. Graeme was all for the young man taking his lumps. But, Amrys was right, he wasn't a lycanthrope, and later, Lucius would regret it if the boy was seriously hurt.

The man took off at a running lope. A second man followed until the bend in the hall, then he went one way while the first man went the other.

Amrys was now very close to Lucius. He leaned in, not offering his throat this time, he didn't want to endure having it ripped out. He lowered his head submissively. Swayed in, showing his respect and his lower status. He sank to his knees, just as Yaji had done. Graeme reentered the room. He, too dropped to his knees and crawled forward.

"Please my king, do not do something you will regret. I beg of you."

"You tell me to govern my son by rules that differ from all the rest? How can I do that? He is my son. He has done wrong, his betrayal strikes me far deeper than any other member of my pride's would. He can not be above our laws." Lucius' voice revealed the full measure of pain he was feeling.

Lucius was still for one more long, tension filled minute, head hanging forward. Then he leaped. 

Amrys, coming up from his position on the floor, met him in mid leap. Graeme was a split second later. The two subordinate males clashed with the dominant alpha, all changing in midair, so where once three men were, now three brawling were-cats fought.

The sound of the fighting, far from increasing the tension outside in the hall, actually let a wave of relief move through those gathered. The dominant three would work this one out. There was no need for the rest to decide. Amrys and Graeme were doing their duty to their king. Taking the heat. Keeping him from making a decision he would regret. Making it possible for him to back down.

 

It was Potter and Blaise who showed up in tow with one of the men who had searched for the marked young-lings. Fred was no where to be found. A howl, followed by many deep snarls made Harry jump back and turn to flee as they approached the cluster in the hall.

Kaithas reached out and grabbed Harry's shirt, keeping him there.

"Stop. Don't be afraid, kitten. Take a breath. Good." Harry fastened both hands on the dark man's forearms, he was trembling. His eyes flicked towards the open doorway.

"I am not going in there." Harry said firmly, pushing against the hold the man had on him. Jerking against it. "They are fighting. I can hear it. They can fight it out amongst themselves. I can't do anything, except get killed. So, forget it."

"Who told you you had to go in?" Kaithas tried to be distracting.

The young man looked at him. "Oh, please. I get dragged here and all of you are outside waiting, and *they* are inside. My luck is....I am supposed to go inside. No. Way."

Mantheer came up next to them. Harry looked up, and up. The tall man looked down at him.

"Marked One. Has no one told you what it is you exist for?" The deep voice rumbled. Harry was not impressed.

"My name is Potter. And I've heard all this before. 'You exist to do one thing'. Well I've done it. I killed Voldemort. I am through with duty and destiny." Harry snapped. Mantheer regarded him silently, then reached out and took a handful of his shirt, shaking him once, hard.

"I don't care if you have killed Lord Voldemort and every one of his followers. That is the past. You have new duties now. Now it is your duty to serve this pride and its king. He has marked you as his chosen. You will go to him. You will do it." Mantheer scowled down at the youth he held up on his tip-toes.

Harry jerked one of his arms free, hung from the other, pulled hard on it. His brows were drawn down, he hissed through clenched teeth. "No."

"You will go in there, you will save Draco from his father. You will keep our king from doing what he must not do." Mantheer said, his voice no louder than before. But much more threatening.

"What?" Harry asked in confusion. His eyes were drawn to the other side of the group, to the blond young man waiting against the wall. Draco. They frowned hard at each other. 

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

Harry looked up at Mantheer. His gaze traveled to the next man, Kaithas, the pride Seer. Then he looked over at Draco who was slouched at the end of the grouping of lycanthropes, pretending to ignore them all. Standing apart, Draco managed to give off more hostile misery than Harry remembered seeing from him before. 

"Let me go." Something in his voice must have convinced the men holding onto him that they should listen to him, because both of them let go. Kaithas frowned at him, jaw jumping, sharp eyes probing Harry's face. Assessing him with the depth of a Seer's gift.

"What are you planning?" Kaithas asked him, bluntly. He didn't know the young man well enough to predict his actions. This situation was delicate enough, volatile enough, without adding a wild card to the mix. No one here could afford an escalation.

"I am waiting for someone to tell me what is going on." Harry replied, brushing his fingers over the reddened area where Mantheer's hand had been. He turned his attention back to Draco. He pinned his classmate with a stony glare. "Draco? How about it?"

Draco shook his head. He'd rather endure whatever punishment his father dished out. He wasn't about to explain to Potter what he'd done and why. Not when Harry was a were-leopard and Draco was not. Harry once again had what Draco wanted, what he craved, what he needed so badly. He was not going to ask him for help. No way. He turned his head aside, looking down the hall.

"No, then? OK. Anyone else feeling up to telling me? And I don't mean the...'it's what you are meant to do'...crap, either." Harry snapped, impatiently. "I have heard all that, been there and done it. Not gonna do it that way, again. So, talk."

"It is the role of the claimed..." Mantheer's heavy growl began. Harry's brows lowered and he began to glower. Kaithas' voice interrupted, hastily.

"No, Mantheer. Let me." The Seer turned to face the newest kitten. One who was not acting as a kitten usually did. Intriguing and very annoying when taking orders would speed things along. Kittens were meant to obey. To do as they were told to do.

"Draco made a mistake. He tried to find a way to be turned into a were-leopard. In so doing he broke faith with his guards and with his father. Lucius, our alpha king feels he has no choice but to punish his son, severely. As he would any member of the pride for doing something like this. For betraying the pride like this. For disobeying the king's order." Kaithas began.

"Draco is not lycanthrope. He has been punished. He can not endure more." Mantheer rumbled low in his great chest. "He is human, he will break, he will not heal as one of us." The man was the size of a mountain, Harry's eyes darted away, looking elsewhere.

"OK." Harry said, when it became apparent no further words were forthcoming. Both were-leopards were looking at him like the rest was obvious. It wasn't, at least not to Harry. He resisted the urge to pull his hair out.

"So what does this have to do with you wanting me to go in there, with you throwing me to the wolves?" He asked. The guard looked blank, the Seer let a small, unwilling smile grace his lips. He fought it back down before it became a laugh. It would not do to encourage rebellious behavior in the kitten.

"There are no wolves, here, just the pride." Mantheer growled. Kaithas interrupted again.

"You are one of his chosen. One of the King's Chosen. You can distract him with your body, with sex. You can keep him from hurting or killing his son." He said it quietly, his eyes fixing on Harry's.

"Oh." Harry said. It was simple after all. He was expected to go into the room with the battling leopards and seduce Lucius Malfoy. Make him forget Draco. Save Draco's life. By wiggling his bottom. Harry really, really didn't want to go into the room. The sounds he was hearing from there were not enticing or reassuring. He could smell blood. Goose bumps pimpled his skin. He was afraid to go in there, into that room with the fight going on.

If he didn't, these men were telling him Draco might die. Draco drove Harry crazy with his attitude, his sneering put downs. But, Harry didn't want Draco to be hurt, or killed. Especially not by his father. There was something even more wrong about that than a boy his age dying from a stranger's hand. Worse than Harry offering himself to the man, the lycanthrope in that room. For sex. Harry swallowed hard. 

He lifted his eyes from the floor. From contemplating his bare, wriggling toes. He nodded, reluctantly.

Kaithas stopped Mantheer from grabbing the kitten's arm. He put an arm around the youth and hugged him. Leading him to the door way. Stopping just short of it, he turned Harry to face him.

"He will not hurt you. He will probably scare you. Don't resist. Amrys and Graeme won't hurt you, either. You belong to our king. You will be safe." He gave Harry a small nudge forward. 

"I can't go in with you. If they see me, it will only make things worse." He explained. "They have done this before, with each other. They know how to fight amongst themselves. Adding me to the mix,...it would not be beneficial." Harry nodded. He gulped, drew in a deep breath, and stepped hesitantly into the room.

At first nothing happened. Well, nothing changed. Everything kept right on happening. The fighting raged. 

There was surprisingly little blood, was the first thing Harry noticed. Lots of noise, roaring, and snarling, lots of thumps, when heavy blows landed. Heaving sides, and flailing limbs. But for the most part, the claws on all of the three were sheathed. They were fighting, earnestly, but not out to kill each other.

Harry took another step into the room. One of the cats landed on all fours, facing him. Harry flinched. Hands going out, and up, as if it would stop the cat. He had no more chance of warding the man-animal off than stopping a train with only his outstretched palms. 

He noted the dark copper-brown fur, the black rosettes dotting it here and there. There was one bloody scratch across the cat's muzzle. It's lips were pulled back, teeth revealed in a threat-snarl. Four inch fangs gleamed. The cat's nose twitched. Its head lifted. And it backed off, fast.

Only to be replaced by the bigger form of the palest of the three were-cats. A hulking brute of silvery, gold marked fur. Spattered here and there with blood, yet mostly uninjured, as far as Harry could see. It slunk forward, deadly intent, creeping on all fours, belly close to the ground, eyes fixed, ravenous, on Harry. The long tail lashed, hypnotically, side to side. It sniffed, again, and again. Each sniff darkening those so primordial eyes.

It came forward in a sudden rush. Running into Harry hard, thrusting its nose into his chest, pushing him down. Harry tried to fall gracefully, failed, ending sprawled on his backside, bruisingly hard. The cat kept coming, moving right up over Harry, pressing its hot, furred underside to the youth's front. Pushing him all the way flat, muzzle rooting around Harry's throat, letting out repeated growls, low and warning. Breath hot on Harry's stretched throat. Chuffing snorts of air.

Harry fought to hold the squeal of distress in. He knew sound might provoke the beast. He held very still. One huge paw went to his middle, claws raking with precision, slicing through Harry's clothes, but not his flesh. Harry's felt his skin jumping in uncontrollable reaction to the near miss. He felt each long wickedly curved claw as it slid over his vulnerable skin, slick and hard as polished ivory.

The cat lowered more of its weight onto the young man. Harry squirmed. The cat growled warningly. Working with its back paws to shred the pants off its prey, until Harry lay mostly nude, shivering, scared. He couldn't stop his hands from lifting, fisting in the thick fur, holding on tight. He had to hold on to something. Anything. A deep purr rumbled throughout his whole body, the cat on top of him telegraphing approval, pleasure.

A second purr and then a third answered the first. Harry could see one of the other cats, flat to the floor, belly-creeping closer. Head lowered to just above the ground. It was watching him with glittering, predatory, brown eyes. Harry yelped, trying to squirm away. The big cat on top of him hissed, and the other animal stopped its forward progress for a moment, licking its jaws nervously.

Harry was trapped. He felt the were-cat shift its back paws, positioning them between Harry's legs, forcing them wider apart, so Harry felt that incredible, more than human heat settle against his inner thighs. He whimpered, adjusting side to side, which only resulted in his instinctive lifting of legs to slide along the beast's sides. He did not want to do it, not this way, especially. He did not want to do this with an animal, not even one he knew was really a man. He felt the slick heat of the were-cats genitals along his pelvis.

"No." Harry pleaded. He pushed up, pulling at the fur clutched in his fists. "No! Lucius. No. Please. Be human for me. Please."

The cat heaved closer, its hard, erect tip touching Harry intimately. Harry cried out. Then the beast changed. One minute a cat, the next a man. Still positioned to penetrate him, still dripping, wet, hot and ready. Harry was counting his blessings. He didn't resist. At least his first time would be with a man, not a were-animal. He relaxed as much as he could, wrapped his legs around Lucius. Felt the smooth skin of the man's chest rub over his tautened nipples. He sighed. That was good.

Lucius eased forward, sliding into the tight young body a fraction of an inch. The youth was not resisting, he rumbled his satisfaction. He let off the pressure for an instant, then pushed in again. Gentle, slow, easy. This was his Marked. His Marked should never be hurt or injured in sex. Back and forth, Lucius' body providing the necessary lubrication, dripping with his state of high arousal.

He felt the first real penetration, heard the quick indrawn breath from the boy underneath him. Good. He was in, just a bit, but now he moved forward with greater ease. In and out. deeper with each stroke, Harry's moans growing. Pleasure, and pain, a tinge of fear, Lucius caught the scent, and moved to alleviate the fear. He licked the boy's face. Snuffled along his ear. Licked again.

Lucius felt the two long sinuous, furred bodies stealing closer, rubbing along either side of his and the Marked one's bodies. He did not try to dissuade them, just continued to carefully thrust, gaining deeper entry into the tight hot place that was the focus of all his need. He pumped his hips. Harry cried out. Lucius growled, licked the open, panting mouth. Let his tongue explore inside. 

Harry was filled to capacity, he thought. The king was too big, he couldn't take it. Couldn't take all of him. He opened his mouth to cry out, to tell him no more. But the man's tongue filled his mouth. Sucked on his own tongue and a rush of unexpected heat washed over his skin, radiating through him like a sudden bone deep shock of electricity. All the way to his pelvis. Pooling there. Urging his body to take it, to take more, to get more, to beg for it. 

Harry suddenly sucked hard on the warm tongue in his mouth. His body was melting. His legs moving wider, his pelvis lifting, thrusting in time with the man's surging motions. The huge invader went further, Harry dropped his head back, lolling on his neck, rolling side to side.

No. This wasn't possible. This pleasure. Oh, God. So hard. So deep. Deeper, please. Lucius moved up inside of him in one complete wave. Oh, Merlin. Harry sobbed. Limp. No more strength in his body, not after being confronted with this overwhelming sensation.

Lucius felt the body under his own go passive, throbbing around him only in one place, the place where he pierced it so incredibly deep. His head raised involuntarily, every hair on end, at the complete submission. He had never felt it so perfectly done. He roared out of his human throat. Thrust in hard, pulled back. Hard and long, hitting the place inside the youth's body that made him whimper and thrash his head. But the boy's arms were open, his legs wide, he was absolutely open to the king's will. His body surrendered for the king's passion. The king's use.

Lucius lost his control. He rushed forward, unable to stop, seeking the ultimate sensation, to reach his satisfaction, to claim this one, to spill his seed in him. He moved, fast, thrusting, nipping and licking the face and throat of the moaning, whimpering youth. His kitten. His. Faster, pistoning in and out, the kitten letting out continual cries, accepting each powerful invasion into his body willingly. 

Sweat poured off the alpha's face, dripped onto the boy underneath, slicked their bodies. Harry was barely conscious, yet so attuned to the pleasure, to the power of the man piercing him. It was his only reality, the place between his legs, the sparkling sensation of the man riding him hard and deep, striking his prostate with every stroke, until Harry wailed, his orgasm jetting out, half-unwilling from his body. Too soon, too soon, far too soon. But too long, he had been waiting for this for his entire life. He wanted it to last forever.

The rhythmic squeezing around his erection was all Lucius needed. The last little stimulation to send him roaring to his pleasure. His seed filled the tight body beneath his. Pulsing into the tight sheath. He rode it even as he filled it full, covered it anew with his scent, his claim. Hips pumping, even deeper into it, to the limit of his reach, into this perfect vessel. The vessel that was his. His Marked. His Claimed.

He went limp. Made no objection when tongues began lapping at him, at them, cleaning them of sweat and sex and seed. He slid off the boy, to the side. Allowed his second and third to continue their task, their care of their king and his Chosen.

Outside, Yaji and Mantheer held the sobbing young man, they held Draco tight, as they listened to the king's pleasure.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 

Andromeda carefully put her hands on her knees. They were shaking and had been for almost sixty minutes. She balled them into fists, willing the tremors to stop, feeling her nails dig into her palms. It stopped the shaking, the small pains helping her think. She opened her fists and watched the blood well up in the crescent shaped wounds. Better, now. Now she could work on finding a solution, instead of sitting up here shaking like a leaf wondering if anyone had discovered her part in the failed scheme.

She was sitting in her dressing room, high up on the fifth floor of the Manor House. She looked out over the estate, without seeing any of it. It was not working out like she had planned. So meticulously put together, still the plans had failed miserably. It had been foolish to rely on anyone else to carry out the most important part.

That idiot woman, Trelawny, should have taken care of Andromeda's one, big problem by now. Not so. Something had happened. Gone wrong, in spite of her exacting plans. Andromeda knew it for sure, because she had seen the problem, big as life, with her own two eyes, not more than an hour ago. The fear had gripped her, freezing her in her tracks, her heart pounding. It tool all of her will not to turn and flee. She walked calmly out of the great hall, away from lunch, and up here, to her private rooms. Then she had fallen apart.

She had seen Draco. Here, alive, in the halls downstairs, entirely unharmed. Those guardian apes, Mantheer and Yaji, with him, petting him, coddling him like HE was the heir, not her son. They were leopards, yes, but they were nothing more than cursed apes. Muscle. Not a brain to share between them. They could not have saved him. Not even if they'd only had to trip over him to do it. She was sure of it. So, who had saved the king's son?

With Draco gone, the focus would have shifted to her son. The heir. And as the Mother of the heir, she would have gained in status. She needed every bit of that she could get to dethrone her false-brother. He had his supporters, far too many of them, they resisted her attempts to bring them into her camp, refusing to support her. Their loyalty frustrated her. When had he earned this kind of blind devotion? She had never seen him do anything, no great works, to bind them to him. How had it happened? She threw back her head and growled.

"Mother?" The beautiful blond boy entered her rooms, uncertainly. She looked at him, trying to force her face to transform from a snarling mask into a welcoming one. His horrified face showed that her efforts had failed. His blue eyes grew wide and frightened. He backed away into the corridor. She scowled and spoke.

"Sweetie, Mums is not angry with you, pet. Don't worry. Mums loves you." She did managed to keep her voice feather soft. She was able to keep the love of him in it, keep the frustration at her failure out of it.

The fear receded from the boys expression, he put two fingers in his mouth, trying to soothe fragile nerves. He inched into the room. She looked at him, trying to see if there was any sign of his father in him. Small, yes, but the coloring was all hers. His eyes hers, his hair, hers. The sweet ivory skin tone, hers. She had refused to tell the pride who the father was. Even dropping hints that it was her brother. Those hints fell on deaf ears, never growing into the rumors that she wanted. It was her right to keep the man's identity to herself. She was the important parent here. It was her blood that gave the child a claim to the leopard throne. 

Andromeda held out her arm. He was warm and perfect nestled in her embrace. How she loved this child. Her only child. The heir. "Come here, Christophe. Mums was thinking, this is a nice time of year to go vacationing. If you could go any where, where would you like to go? Next year you will be old enough to go to school at Hogwarts, and then we won't be able to vacation except during school breaks."

She smiled at him as he began to tell her all the places he wanted to visit. And a new plan began to form in her mind. This one would not fail. This time she would do it all herself. Not counting on any one else's aid.

 

"I can't find her, Lucius." The Seer was adamant. "She is gone and so is the heir." 

"You have looked everywhere?" Lucius leaned into the the hands that combed out his long hair. Kaithas was patient, working out the snarls painlessly. Until the strands hung in a sheet of heavy, silky threads across his lap. He ran his fingers through it, slowly, over and over. The movement soothing to him and to the blond were-leopard.

"Yes, alpha. Amrys and Graeme are searching the grounds still. But, there is no reason for her to be out there." Kaithas added. Andromeda was not inclined to go out into the woods and forest surrounding the estate. To do so would be out of character. It was not wise to assume she would be found there.

"When was she last seen?" Lucius asked, watching the others bathing in the large pool. Kaithas sat behind him on the lip of the pool. Three of the young-lings were frolicking, splashing further out. The adult females were closer to the edge, not so rambunctious. 

Kaithas noted one of the females was pregnant, just beginning to show. He wondered who was going to be a father. He had not heard of any one being named yet. A naming ceremony would be good for the pride. Drawing them together, united in celebration of the conception. The infant would get a before-birth name, a name to offer it protection as it grew, a name to acknowledge it belonged and was welcomed into the pride. One he or she would carry until they were delivered. Then the birth name would supersede it.

"Yesterday, she took her meals in her rooms, Christopher was with her." The Seer answered his king. "The house elves swear to it. Then, this morning, she was gone. There was no one in her rooms when they brought breakfast to her, the heir's rooms were empty also, his bed unslept in."

Lucius ground his teeth. She had done the unthinkable. She had taken the heir from the protection and love of the pride. The heir belonged where they could care for him. She, his Mother, was using him to further her ambitions.

"She has taken him. To punish the pride, or to weasel some thing, some concession from me." He said, heaving a sigh. Kaithas stroked his hair again. "She has finally taken the step that can not be forgiven."

"She wishes for you to turn her." Kaithas pointed out, feeling Lucius' great muscles shift as he moved, restlessly. "She will not harm him, she will use him to get that from you, my king."

Lucius shook his head. "No. Not enough for her. She will ask to be changed and for me to abdicate the throne to her. Or she will demand I take her as my consort. So she will rule beside me. As Mother to the heir, her word will come before mine if she is my co-ruler."

"She is too focused on her goals to be adequate protection for him. We must find where they have gone, before others find them. There are many of my enemies who would stop at nothing to get the boy. And enemies of the pride. Andromeda has refused to name the father. She has kept his father from a place in the pride. A position that is his by right. If he wants that place he has only to claim the heir as his, take him, and he can ask for anything that is in our power to grant. We have no way of knowing if he wants that." Lucius heaved a great sigh.

"We will find the heir." Kaithas promised. "Before it is too late."

"He is only a child, Kai." Lucius said, sadly.

"I know." They were both wondering how a mother could risk her child in such a blatant bid for power. Power was not worth the child's life.

"When he has been found...." Lucius began. Kaithas put a hand over the other man's, silencing him. He shook his head.

"You do not need to say it. It will be done." The Seer promised. Lucius nodded his silent thanks.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 

Harry asked himself for the tenth time what the hell he was doing coming down here. He'd left Blaise asleep, with the other young-lings curled around him. All warm and content, as Harry was not. He was restless, tossing and turning. Then he sat up, impulsively leaving his sleeping area and companions, padding noiselessly down the long halls. Heading here. He was now in the hall outside the king's personal rooms. Unbidden.

He looked over at one of the tall guardians who stood watch. The dark skinned, human-form, were-leopard returned his look impassively, eyes glittering black in the gloom. Made no move to stop him, or to question him. Why was he here? Should he be here? Why did the night-watcher not stop him? Did he have a right to be here? As the Chosen? No one had said. But, the guard did not try to stop him. Surely that meant something.

Harry ducked into the dark room quickly, before he lost what little nerve he had. He stood still just inside the arched doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust. It happened faster than it had ever done when he was all human. He could see well in only seconds, despite the cloaking blackness, without a single candle lit.

He picked his way silently towards the big bed, piled high with sleeping furs, his bare feet confident, moving over the cool stones of the floor. Three bodies were tumbled in among the furs. Long, muscular bodies. The ruling three of the pride. The king and his second and third. Sleeping together. 

Harry crept silently closer. He wished they were not there, the other two men. He wished the king was alone. That they, he and Lucius, could be alone. They never were. Others were always around. Even as he gave his virginity to the king. Graeme and Amrys had been there , close enough that they touched, the four of them, while Lucius took him.

He was not completely sure why he decided to come here. He had woken, wanting to be somewhere besides in the snoozing pile of young-lings. Harry wished to be with the man who was his lover. Wanted to be touched by him, held by him. Wanted to rest with his ear over the man's strong heart beat. His virginity had been taken by the king and not another word said. No endearments. No words of commitment, or of love. Harry ached to know why.

What did it mean to be the Marked one, the Claimed, or the Chosen? He was not treated differently. His company was not sought out. They did not converse together, or even sit together unless Lucius was idle and inclined to pet him. 

If their paths crossed, the man would stroke him absently and move on. The touches were good, but there were no words, no conversations with him. So what if others in the pride said the word "Chosen" with reverence. Harry didn't feel special. He felt lonely.

Being taken, having sex, for that small time he had felt special. He had felt pleasure, great pleasure. At that moment he knew where he belonged. But not now. Now he felt alone, unwanted. The companions of his age, those still asleep in the furs he left minutes ago, they failed to ease his loneliness. They were not enough. It came to him what he wanted, laying awake in the dark.

It was why he was here, now. He wanted Lucius. He wanted to be near the man again, to be next to be held by the man who had been deep in his body. He wanted to be welcome here, in the king's, his lover's, private space. Like Amrys and Graeme were.

Were the men the king's lovers? If so, was he also? Or was he something else? Something he didn't understand?

Taking sudden courage from his desperation, the young man crawled up onto the bed and into the tumbled furs. He felt warm skin brushing his bare knees. He scented, the limb belonged to Graeme. He stole up further and found a hand. A pale skinned hand, that smelled right, he nuzzled his face into the curled palm. Flattening the fingers until they cupped his face. Rolled his back up against the man's thigh. Settled down.

He was not aware of it when he began to cry. His tears fell onto the hand and wrist of the man. Who startled awake, sniffing at the salty tang in the air. 

Sadness, pain, longing. It was in the air. Lucius was immobile for long moments trying to figure out what had occurred. 

There was a fourth body in his bed. Unexpected. Small and slender, young. His kitten was here. In his rooms. Where kittens were not brought. Not ever. He sat up, reached a hand down, just as Amrys was reaching out to lift the offending one off the bed, to deposit him onto the floor. Lucius stopped his second. Looking down into the huge green eyes swimming with despair and spilling tears.

"Leave him. Rest." The king whispered. Graeme and Amrys exchanged a look. Laying hesitantly back down, as their king bid. Lucius lifted the shaking youth up and into his arms. The boy collapsed on top of Lucius, sobbing quietly now, anguished, as if his heart was breaking. The alpha's large hands tried to console him. Petting him until he fell asleep from exhaustion.

"Shall I return him to the rest of the kittens?" Amrys whispered when the hiccuping breaths had evened out.

"No. He may remain here." Lucius responded, sleepily. "He will rest better now than if you wake him and move him."

"My king...." Graeme said, his disquiet apparent in his voice. But Lucius shushed him.

"If I may not chose where to have my Chosen rest, then am I really king?"

His leopards conceded the point. Curling up on either side of their friend and king, while the boy slept on, sprawled on the broad chest, ear over the beating heart of the man. Content.

 

@@@The Manor's library. The next day.@@@

Lucius pulled the startled young man up off the chair and to his feet. Bending, he swept him up into his arms, carrying him out of the library and away from the circle of friends who he'd been studying with. Someone giggled. More than one someone, as Harry was carried off, dangling face down over a wide shoulder. Harry yelped, but quickly noted who it was and managed to relax, struggling didn't seem like a good idea.

It was a trip of only minutes, even with the boy's wiggles, to Lucius' sleeping room. Harry was sprawled out on his back on the furs a second after they crossed the threshold. He started to sit up, but Lucius, shedding his loose pants, now gloriously naked, crawled onto the bed and pinned him flat, divesting him of his clothing, too. Harry had only a second to see and marvel at the wonderful body, the sheer beauty, before he was pressed into the furs and the sensation made him close his eyes.

Lucius began with Harry's fingers. He nuzzled them, kissed them. Gently, he moved his tongue over them, tasting a faint inky flavor, but underneath it, the taste that was all kitten, all his Chosen. He sucked the youth's thumb into his mouth, worried at it. Sliding it in and out of his tightened lips, grazing it all along its length with his blunt human teeth. Harry's eyes rolled back into his head. Skin tightening all over his body.

"Gooood." He groaned. Thirty seconds, not even one minute, after being tossed onto the bed, and he was already out of control. A slut. That is what he was. The leopard king's slut. A wonderfully, incredibly lucky, very happy slut. Wrapping his legs around the man's waist he found he didn't really care what he was at all.

Lucius licked at the spread palm, leaving the wet thumb behind, biting his way, softly, no lingering marks, to the vulnerable wrist, raking teeth over the hot pulse, hesitating, then moving slowly, wetly, up the outstretched arm, up the forearm, and to the boy's elbow crease. He sucked the tender flesh, into his mouth, drawing a flush of blood to the surface. Harry squirmed, crossing his legs and squeezing them together hard. Trapping his achingly hard erection against Lucius' belly, squeezing it, trying not to come, not to lose it so soon.

The man's nose pushed into Harry's neck, rubbing over his throat, inhaling and exhaling the stronger scent that lingered there. He kissed the damp flesh, suckled at it, licked up to behind the young man's ear. Oh, that was good, the soft curly hair, the scent of light-sweating kitten, the tender lobe of his ear to nibble on. He nibbled and he bit. Harry reacted with a cry of almost fear, coupled with a moan of pure wanton arousal. Lucius growled louder, flicking the tender lobe with his tongue.

He used his hands to move the youth. To tilt him, his hips upward, fitting them together and moving into him, pressing their bodies close. Then he licked over the bony clavicles, over the stretched and offered throat. Biting carefully at his shoulders, nice strong, young shoulders, rounded with muscle, not large like his own, but good and full, just right for the slim frame.

The round mounds of buttocks fit perfectly into his hands, cupped into his palms, his erection sliding along the flat belly, warm thighs, gripping him tight. 

"Lucius!" The word was a gasp. The kitten was moaning, Lucius smiled at that, the thrill of the sound tearing though him, like icy fire.

"Yesss," the leopard king hissed. His hold growing fierce, painfully tight. Harry threw back his head and cried out. Lucius snarled against the Chosen's neck. "Yes, give yourself to me, kitten. Please me."

"Lucius please." Harry cried, low. He writhed. "I can't..."

"You can, kitten. What ever it is, you can." The man told him. And lowered his mouth over the opened, panting one, tasting it with his mouth and lips and tongue.

"No. Not with you doing....that."

Lucius was thrusting between Harry's thighs, over and over, tortuously slow. The friction was exquisite. He smiled against the curve of Harry's neck.

He pulled back, raised the smaller man, and laved his tongue over one of the hard pebbled nipples. Harry screamed, gooseflesh breaking out over his chest in a wave. Oh, better, and better. Lucius thought, letting Harry fall flat onto his back. Then he began nursing each of those tender nips of flesh.

Harry tried to push him away. His nipples burned and grew more peaked, so tight and hard he thought they would break off. So sensitive. And Lucius seemed to know, because his tongue slowed its movement. Lapped gently. Sucked with careful lips. Harry hyperventilated. His cries continuous now. He was wet, so wet down there.

Lucius moved still lower. He didn't do this often, but the sweet flesh of his chosen tempted him. His mouth found the youth's erection, sucking it into the cavern of wet heat. Harry lost the ability to think. Heat surrounded him, dragged over his sensitive flesh. His penis surged with every stroke of the eager tongue that played over him. 

Sweet, clean, luscious. Lucius suckled. 

Harry arched up into his mouth now, thrusting, ragged, nearly out of control. Hissing with the unfamiliar sensation of being taken this way. His coordination was failing. His hand falling aside, his knees and legs working aimlessly as he heaved up, writhing. 

As Lucius teased and tormented him with the slippery, mobile pleasure, sliding his lips up and down his blood swollen length. Pulling off, Lucius licked at the backs of Harry's spread thighs. Running his tongue over the back of Harry's testicles. Drawing first one, then the other into his mouth. 

Before returning his attention to the straining, red erection laying tightly up against Harry's belly. He swallowed it whole, to the root, sucking hard, moving his head up and down. His tongue swirling and slurping at the rigid flesh. Harry moaned in pure disbelief. He keened. Jerking half upright and shot his load into the demanding mouth around him. Lucius nursed his tender cock gently for several moments longer. Until the last of the cream was deposited on his tongue. Then he pulled back from the limp young man.

"Have I pleased you, kitten?" The were-leopard king murmured against the other's dampened belly.

Lucius leaned back, and Harry fought to focus on him. Saw him at the end of the bed, licking his lips with lazy satisfaction. Harry moaned again. He had no idea how to speak. It would take him some time to remember how to use actual words.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

"Potter!"

Harry turned towards the hissed word. He was not prepared to see that it was Draco Malfoy who was calling to him. He stopped in his travel towards the great hall, coming to a wary halt. Looking bemusedly at Draco. What was he up to?

The blond boy was half concealed in a doorway that Harry had not noticed before. He stared at it curiously, until Draco shook him out of his contemplation with another hiss.

"Potter, for goodness sake! Get over here before someone else sees!" Draco was beckoning him nearer with urgent movements.

Harry had actually started to obey, taken a step in his classmate's direction, when he remembered just who was calling him over and stopped in his tracks. He gave Draco a suspicious glare.

"What are you up to, Malfoy?" Harry got right to the point. Hell with being polite.

"Bet you don't call my *dad*, Malfoy, eh, Potter?" Draco growled, snarkily. Then pursed his lips as if to prevent any more words escaping.

Harry continued to glare, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. Draco threw up his hands and hissed under his breath at the other youth. Harry barely heard him, Draco seemed....embarrassed?

"Oh, Merlin's beard, Harry! I'm sorry for that. I don't want to trade insults. I just want to talk. Come on! Wizard's word, I am not plotting something against you! Father would kill me if I did. Besides, I owe you for...that...what you did. Uhm, saving me a thrashing and all that." Now it was Draco who was pink, and having trouble meeting the other's eyes.

Harry nodded. It sounded sincere. Worth taking a chance. Draco was a pain, but he wasn't all that dangerous. Not that Harry could see. Especially, since he didn't have his Slytherin friends around to encourage him and egg him on. Harry slipped into the room as Draco closed the door softly and turned a huge, antique key in the old fashioned lock. He pocketed the heavy bit of metal.

Harry watched the key turn in the lock with growing alarm. Bracing himself, he prepared for whatever nefarious assault Draco had planned. But, Draco merely turned and walked past him, not even seeming to pick up how anxious Harry was, appearing quite nervous himself. He wandered over to a group of chairs set near the far wall. Plopping into one of them and picking at the upholstered arm.

Harry followed. There wasn't anything else to do. Besides, he felt silly huddled near the locked door, like a defenseless first year. He could take care of himself. He strode over and sat down, planting his feet firmly, not crossing his ankles, just in case he had to move fast. Draco waited until Harry was seated comfortably in one of the chairs near him before he began.

"This is kind of hard for me. So, if you can, just bear with me. Let me get it out. Never thought I'd have to say this to you." Draco cleared his throat. Opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to be thinking diligently, trying to find a way to say what was on his mind, without success. Harry sighed. Watched Draco starting and stopping several times. Finally, it was too much.

"Animal, vegetable or mineral?" He asked at last. Draco looked at him like he was coming out of a fog, and wasn't sure what he'd heard. His expression was...odd.

"I was trying to figure out what you are thinking." Harry explained. "It is a Muggle game. You ask 'animal, vegetable or mineral'. And go from there. Asking more questions, until you figure out just what the person is thinking."

Now Draco was staring at him as if he was utterly mad. Harry shrugged, letting out a gusty breath.

"Just trying to help. So, what is on your mind?" The Gryffindor asked. Draco drew in a deep breath, making a decision, and plunged on.

"When you went into that room,...when he, my father, uh...listened...." Draco blushed again.

"We didn't talk," Harry muttered, shifting in his chair. "That was one thing we didn't do."

"Potter!" Draco sounded desperate. Harry held up his hands, signaling he was not going to interrupt again. Draco clasped his hands together, propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. He didn't look at the other young man. He kept his gaze fixed on his worrying hands. He began to talk in fits and starts.

"Uh, well, when *it* worked,...and you...came out in one piece, Potter..... I, uh, realized I have to get along with you. We have to get along with each other, you see, because he is keeping you. You really are his Chosen." Draco managed, at last.

"What does that mean? I mean, everyone says I am his Chosen. So. Tell me. What does it mean? No one ever says." Harry had to interrupt then.

"God. You can divert him, make him aware of you, he can't not respond to you. It means you have everything. All of it. Everything I wanted and can't have." Draco shook his head.

"You wanted...." Harry couldn't stop the shocked tone. He regretted it instantly. Draco half moaned his distress.

"No. Not that! Damn. Though, I can see how you might think it. My aunt, you got to meet her up close, wants that. She wants to be taken as a Consort. To rule with dad. She doesn't care if he is her brother. So, I guess our family doesn't look so good to you. I see how you might think it of me, too." Draco sounded sad, depressed.

"I didn't think you wanted to have sex with your father, Draco. It just caught me off guard when it sounded as if that was what you were going to say. Sorry. Go ahead." Harry reassured the other youth.

"I grew up thinking I was going to be a lycanthrope. Be like my father, be his heir. Everything I was taught was leading up to the day I was going to be changed, and then I would be able to stand by him. Rule the pride someday. Pick my second and my third and rule with them when it was my time. But, it didn't happen that way. Father tried to change me. It didn't work. *She* confessed her family was resistant to lycanthropy. Dad hoped I had enough of his genes that I might be changed. I don't, he can't change me. No one can." Draco's voice got lower and slower, finally coming to a pause for several minutes. Harry let the silence grow. No wonder Draco was such a prat. 

"I can't change, so I can't be the pride heir. Mom put dad in a really bad spot. There are a lot of different positions of power in the pride. He is the king. The ruler. He has that position. Normally he'd have another. He'd be the Sire. The Father of the heir, absolute top of the heap. But, he isn't. We don't know who is. Only my aunt, Andromeda does. She gave birth to the heir. She is the Mother of the heir. Usually the Mother is wed to the king and Sire. If dad had abandoned my mother then he could have fathered the heir, taken another wife. But he did not. He kept *me* as his son, instead of denying me and my mother. Instead of setting us aside. Now he can't have more children."

"He can't? Why not?" Harry asked, puzzled. As far as he could tell, Lucius had no *functional* reason he couldn't have more children. He fought to keep his face neutral.

"He won't set my mother aside. Until he does that, he is not permitted to father more children. She is his wife and his queen. But, she is not the Mother of the Heir, and thus she can not be the queen." Draco said simply, contradicting himself, if Harry was hearing him right. As if it was the way it was, and there was nothing to do for it.

"That doesn't exactly make sense." Harry pointed out. Draco shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

"It does to the pride. That is the way it has always been. It isn't like with human kings, who have sex with any woman who will hold still. Have a dozen illegitimate sons and daughters. The females of the pride decide who they will take to their beds, and who will be a father. After they have enough children, then they may ask to be changed. Didn't it strike you as the least bit unusual at the number of males sleeping together, without one female in the bunch?" Draco asked curiously. Potter usually noticed everything, often when it was most inconvenient.

Harry mumbled something. 

"What was that?" Draco leaned in closer, trying to hear.

"I didn't really notice it much." Harry mumbled, just loud enough for Draco to hear. "I was more worried about all the guys who seemed to like to snuggle up to me. Didn't wonder so much where the girls were. Just asked once or twice I think."

Draco snorted. " A real piece of work you are, Potter. My dad has public sex with you, in front of most of the pride, and you don't think of it as a little strange?"

"Hey! I thought of it as very strange. This whole set up is weird, Malfoy. People keep telling me I am Marked, and Claimed and the Chosen. But, don't tell me what it means. They tell me I have to do this and that, and that I can't do one thing, but I have to do another. I had Amrys catch up to me the other day, just to tell me "kittens do not sleep in the king's bed"."

"Why...You? You. Slept. In. His Bed?" Draco shouted.

"Merlin, no need to yell! Yes. I slept in his bed. These last three nights." Harry said, surprised by the shout.

"Harry. Kittens don't do that."

"Why the hell not?" Harry snarled out. "It's stupid just to say they don't, not without a reason, damn it! Why not?"

"Harry! There are very careful lines drawn. The king sleeps with his second and third. No one else. He has sex with others, sure. He's never even slept with my mother in that bed. Never. I can't believe Amrys and Graeme let you." Draco was growing agitated.

"He told them to." Harry said, grumpily, feeling defiant. "Told them he was the king."

Draco was up on his feet. Heading at a breakneck pace for the door. He was out of the hidden room and gone before Harry had done more than gain his feet.

God! And still he had no idea what being the Chosen meant. Maybe he could ask one of the Weasleys. Try to get a straight answer out of one of them. Harry headed out. 

Oh, and he'd be damned if he was going to stop going to Lucius' bed at night. He liked being there. It wasn't as if he was trying to kick one of the other men out, or anything like that.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 

Harry sat alone in the library. One leg was bent up, his chin resting on his knee, arms wrapped around his ankle. He felt just a little shell-shocked. His heart was still pounding and he could smell his own arousal. He swung his free leg in short jerky arcs, signaling his inner agitation.

He was, in fact, completely unnerved. And, if truth be told, really, really mad. No one else had answered his questions. So, being Harry Potter, he didn't give up, he just moved on to the next level. He asked the pride's third to explain it all to him. Ron had said Graeme was easy to talk to. He'd had a dreamy smile on his face when he said it. Harry had rolled his eyes, but took Ron at his word. Now he knew better and would take Ron's future advice with just a grain of salt.

Graeme. Who had bared his teeth at him, when he saw him coming. Harry came to an abrupt halt, while he tried to measure the likelihood Graeme would smack him around, versus just try to intimidate him. He came to the conclusion he could safely chance it. 

He walked right up to the bristling cat, looked him in the eye, and asked his question. Graeme frowned at him, seeming to expect something besides a question. Then he answered it. Bluntly. Sure, he could tell Harry why his sleeping in the king's bed was causing such an uproar.

Graeme caught Harry totally by surprise by the explanation. 

Kittens were for sex, they were learning their place, learning how to live in the pride. They were young and durable and always ready for play. Harry was insulted and frowned at the long haired were-leopard. Graeme on the other hand, was pleased Harry was upset and continued his explanation, a tight grin on his face. He reached out towards the young man, sniffing, a pink tongue tip showing as he licked his lips. 

Harry shivered as Graeme ran fingers over the bare skin of his arm, up the back of it. Exploring. Harry's skin went tight, his gut clenched in unwilling heat. The hand was warm, strong, masculine, gentle, yet demanding. Harry felt the familiar melting in his middle and lower down, the desire, the instinct to lay back and accept whatever the dominant male wanted to give him. He grit his teeth and stayed still. He refused to move forward, to otherwise respond.

The deep blue eyes sank into his, Harry was suddenly very aware of the man's musky, delicious scent. He let out a gasp, wanting both to step back and to lean forward, raise his face and take a kiss. He fought the urge. It wasn't right! He wanted Lucius. Not this other big, muscular man, no matter how good he smelled. No matter what Harry's body was asking for, no matter how urgently his insides ached.

Graeme grinned at him, showing hungry teeth. "Kitten. You are for sex. Your whole being cries for it. Don't you feel it?" 

Harry managed to step back at that. Graeme laughed. And he continued his explanation, letting his hand fall away from Harry's goose pimpled flesh.

Only the ruling three slept in the king's rooms. It granted a position of power, sleeping in the king's bed. It meant that they were one of the ruling triad. 

The rest of the pride was waiting now, to see which of the other two men were going to be ousted, since Harry had spent the nights there. They expected Harry to be named second or third. And either Graeme or Amrys would be ousted, driven out, perhaps only out of the king's bed, perhaps out of the pride. The pride was already shuffling, preparing to take on new alliances when the Chosen became second or third.

"I don't want to rule anything." Was Harry's irritated response. "I just want to sleep in the same bed with my lover."

"He is your alpha, silly kitten. He is not your lover." The older lycanthrope had growled. Appearing honestly offended by the young man's assertion. He towered menacingly over Harry.

"He is." Harry insisted. Glowering back at the big man. Eyes shooting sparks. "He is my lover. Period."

"No. He is not." Graeme leaned in closer. He glared at Harry. Dark blue eyes meeting green. His nostrils flared. "King's do not take kitten's as lovers. They *fuck* kitten's."

Harry had a horrible thought. "Are you, and Amrys....are you his lovers?" He asked uncertainly, praying he was wrong. Graeme's chin lifted, his eyes now blazing with fury. His lush, wavy hair fairly crackled with his indignation. His wide mouth was compressed into a flat line of disapproval.

"That is not for a kitten to worry about. It is sufficient that you know you are not Lucius' lover. You should get back to your place. Go sleep with the other young-lings. The king will call you when he wants your legs in the air." Graeme told him.

"I don't know why Ron thinks you are nice." Harry said, slowly. "You are too angry, vicious. Why should it matter to you if I am his lover? You won't claim him as your own, not even when directly asked. I don't want your spot, you can keep whatever power trip you are on. I just want a place of my own."

"Idiot, young-ling. Ron likes me because I know how to give him what his body craves. I know how to spread him wide and fuck him deep until he screams. Unlike you, he knows what he is, and he knows what is right. You can't have what you are asking for. Get out of our bed. You are disrupting the entire pride." Graeme snarled, his voice deepening as he began the preliminary to shifting. His burgeoning fangs clicked. He blinked, not slow and languid, but a refocusing of his predatory attention. Harry felt as if he was being stripped naked, licked, tasted. Fuck! He took another step back from the other man.

Then, part human, part beast, Graeme hissed at Harry and left him standing in the middle of the empty library. And Harry had collapsed with relief into the chair, his knees as sturdy as a bowl of jiggling jello. Fred and George were right, Graeme was definitely one to watch out for. Hot, sexy and terrifying. And a real bastard.

Harry stood. He was going to find Draco, and hash it out at last. He was going to find out what all this shit meant. Why it was impossible to do so damn many things, just "because". And why the hell things couldn't change. It wasn't all written in stone, was it? 

He was tired of the confusion. If it didn't come with a ready made rule book, if someone couldn't hand him one today, he was going to write his own. He was tired of guessing, and being told NO. Bad kitty. Fine. If they thought they'd seen a bad kitty, they were in for a real surprise. Scowling, Harry shot off in search of Draco.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 

Draco was leaning against a wall when Harry spotted him at last. Blending in instead of standing out. Very out of character. Pretty hard to see, almost like he was hiding. Glancing right and left, Harry hurried over. There was no one else around.

"Hey, Malfoy...." Harry began, only just audible, some instinct telling him to keep his voice low. Draco was just too casual standing there, innocence in every line of his body, attention definitely elsewhere. Harry recognized the posture, the other boy was up to something. And, as Sherlock Holmes would say...The game was afoot.

The way Draco startled, his mouth thinning, only assured Harry he was right. As Harry got closer, the blond grabbed him and dragged him up against his side. A hand went to Harry's lips shushing him non-verbally right before Draco spoke.

"Shut up, Potter," he whispered, harsh and urgent, his breath whispering over Harry's ear. He tilted his head. Harry took the hint and listened to the quiet conversation going on around the corner.

Amrys, Graeme, Kaithas, and Lucius. He heard all four voices.

"I don't understand why he should ask for a meeting. He is *insisting* on it. Do we dare go?" Graeme was saying, barely human speech, more a growling snarl than anything else. Harry knew the man was pissed. Unbidden a smile came to his lips. He hoped he was part of the man's problem.

"We must go." Amrys said next. His tone even. "He has give us safe conduct into his territory. He will keep his word, even if he is a wolf."

"Perhaps it has to do with your sister and the heir? Perhaps he knows where they are? He may have located them, heard that we have been searching...." Kaithas' calm voice was like a balm on troubled waters. Even as the subject of his words were troubling.

Graeme said something so garbled that Harry gave up on trying to understand it. He knew that if he stuck his head around the corner, there would be one were-leopard with long coppery fur and blue eyes.

"That would explain much. But, why not just send word?" Lucius responded. Harry felt his whole body lock up in reaction to the man's voice. The reaction he'd had to Graeme earlier was nothing compared to this. He yearned to be in there, pressed up against the man. Legs wrapping around the slim waist, feeling all that power between them. He felt the crimson wave rising up into his face, even as his groin grew tight, his nipples contracted, aching buds. Merlin, he was like a cat in heat! It was embarrassing out here. Now, when he was in bed, snuggled up....that was a whole different story.

"Do you think the bitch is allied with him? Is it possible?" Amrys asked, a fine thread of anger in his tone. A warning of impending violence.

"I put nothing beyond my sister." Lucius said, voice tight and ringing with barely controlled fury, echoing his second.

"I pray her loyalty has not eroded to that point." The Seer put in, grimly. "But, as Lucius says, I put nothing out of her realm, not even that level of treachery. There is a madness in her of late."

"Tambyn did not say it had to do with the heir, just pride business." Amrys commented.

"He is cautious as always with the information he lets out. Still we must go." Lucius returned.

"Who goes?" Harry understood Graeme's speech this time, only just. He had to puzzle at the sounds for a second or two. There was a pause in the conversation.

"Why is your control so tenuous, my third?" Lucius asked, there was sound, and Graeme was purring, a deep and alluring rumble that tickled over his skin. Harry felt Draco's body tremble next to him. He knew the sound came from Graeme. He felt it in his bones. And anguished, he knew why. Lucius was touching his leopard, probably petting him. Stroking a hand thru the soft fur.

"Potter, where are you going?" Draco hissed so low Harry wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't said right up against his ear. The other youth had Harry's arm in a hard grasp. "You can't go in there!"

"I..."Harry began. Then he forced himself to relax, to stop struggling to get into the room beyond and confront Graeme. Draco looked at him strangely.

"We leave now." It was the king's statement that distracted the two young men. Draco dragged Harry further into the shadows as the four men came out of the room. Rather, three men and one leopard. Draco pushed Harry behind him, drawing him in tight in a clinched embrace, the Draco large enough that Harry was completely hidden. None of the others looked their way, not even the were-cat.

Once the group was out of sight around a bend in the hall, Draco tugged on Harry's sleeve. Harry was for once in complete agreement with the Slytherin. They sped off in pursuit. Draco pulled out his wand, brandishing it. A few urgent words and the two youths disappeared from sight, the sound of their footfalls fading away.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

 

"Lucius." The man speaking was massive. Tall and wide enough that he dwarfed all of the people around him. Lucius looked up. Met those dark eyes, chips of obsidian in a harsh featured face. Not handsome. But arresting. Coupled with his uncommon size, Tambyn got lots of looks thrown his way.

"Tambyn." Lucius greeted the man, moving forward between the line of silent werewolves on either side of the hall. They sat, mostly in animal form, watching from sharp, curious eyes. One of them licked its snout with a long, canine tongue. The scent of them assaulted the nostrils of the were-cats. Forbidding, wrong, not feline. Lucius never flinched as he passed them all. 

He felt Graeme twitching, reached out and looped his arm through his third's, pulling him close, calming him with his body. Graeme nervously rubbed and cuddled as they walked, his own long arm going around Lucius' waist. He buried his sensitive nose in his king's hair, trying to block out the overwhelming wolf scent. Lucius let it happen. Graeme was too on edge. It wouldn't be good if he shifted here.

Tambyn remained standing in front of the door to his inner rooms. He gestured for the entire pride contingent to enter. 

"Welcome to the home of the Pack." Tambyn said. He indicated the chairs arrayed around the fireplace at one end of the room. Waited as they moved into them.

"Have a seat." He said into the quiet air. The overwhelming scent of the other wolves stayed mostly outside the room. In here, the cats felt they could breathe again. Lucius took his seat, keeping a hand on Graeme, keeping his third at his feet when he sat. Graeme made no sign of protest. He curled up on the wooden floor at his king's feet, legs tucked under. Lucius stroked him with one hand.

"Thank you." Lucius took the cup handed to him by a slim, brown skinned woman. He set it aside. Kept petting the long coppery locks that were as soft as silk under his hand. Graeme lifted his chin, and Lucius' long agile fingers scratched him under his chin, along his throat.

"That will be all, thank you Electra." Tambyn said to the woman, she moved away from the gathering going to sit a few feet away, her attention on the group.

"We have never been friends, Tambyn. Nor true enemies." Lucius began. Meeting the big man's gaze, liking the strength and purpose he sensed in the man. A man who got things done, Lucius thought. "I was surprised to be asked here. And am impatient to know the reason why."

"Understandable." The huge man paused. His eyes flicked down to Graeme who was purring, eyes half closed in bliss. A corner of his mouth quirked, showing unexpected humor. Lucius let his own mouth almost smile. 

Then Tambyn became serious again."It is not easy, what I am about to say. Please be aware none of it was brought about by my planning. I was too much of a child then to have even thought of any thing so convoluted."

Lucius inclined his head. Graeme licked his wrist, as Tambyn started his explanation.

"Years ago I met a beautiful woman. It was just before I was made king here. I was 19 at the time. She told me her name was Jezebel. She was blonde, and charismatic as well as lovely. We began a romance. Then, a few months into it, she disappeared. I was distraught, heartbroken, then angry. Before, I could find where she had gone, my father died and I was suddenly king." Tambyn frowned, his hurt and memory of it, obviously still quite strong.

Lucius watched the other man, he was telling the truth. His feelings were not faked. His heart rate was a little high, but that jibed well with what he'd revealed. He'd been abandoned by his lover. He'd been very young, not so resilient then. Tambyn resumed his tale.

"When things were more settled with the pack, I began to search. Everywhere, I asked and sent my wolves to look. I never found her. I gave up, other things needed to be taken care of. I married. Very well." His eyes drifted to the woman sitting apart from them, she returned his gaze with determined pride. 

"Then, this week, I saw the woman from my past. With her was a child. A child who smelled like pack, who smelled like me, for all he looked like her. He is my child. One I did not know I had. My eldest child." Tambyn waited for the significance to sink in. All the pride's contingent stirred, except Graeme who had laid his chin over his king's knee, and was purring, loudly. Lucius fondled his ear. He knew he wasn't' going to like the rest of this story.

Kaithas was the one who spoke. "You found her and found out who she is." Tambyn nodded, eyes flinty.

"I did. I had them taken. The woman demanded I free her. She told me she is your sister, Lucius, the Mother of your heir. She gives her name as Andromeda. The boy, he is called Christopher, Christophe by her. She claims the boy is yours?" Tambyn said the name as if he had discovered the most precious of items.

"He must be your heir. I have not lain with my sister, not to father a child or for any other reason." Lucius murmured. "My sister's child is your heir." He shook his head, expression tight, stark.

Andromeda had betrayed the pride. Not only Lucius. She had tried to pass a werewolf's child off as the heir to the pride. Lucius distantly heard Kaithas and Amrys groan. He tried to find any belief in his heart that Tambyn was wrong, or had misinterpreted what had happened. It was too clear.

Lucius' younger sister had gone out from the pride. She had had an affair with a rival lycanthrope. She had become pregnant, with a werewolf's child. She had not told the wolf. She had abandoned him. Then used the child to elevate her position in the pride. She had allowed a werewolf's child to be declared the pride's heir. Lucius let out a sound of pure pain.

Tambyn lifted his head and looked at the doorway of the room. His brows were drawn down his gaze forbidding. "What is it Paulsen?" He growled out.

The werewolf in human form stepped further into the room, his face grim. Behind him were two hulking guards. From their fists dangled a blond figure and a dark haired one. Both struggling and complaining.

Lucius stood, face thunderous. Mantheer and Yaji also gained their feet and were heading forward instantly, intent on freeing the captives. 

Amrys moved forward grabbing Graeme who had pricked up his ears, focusing on the tableau. Lucius held up a hand halting his large guardians' forward progress. Mantheer and Yaji stopped immediately, though he could feel their need move straining against the order.

"Draco, Harry. Why are you here?" Lucius snarled at them. Both youths froze, eyes huge as they sought his.

"Oh shit," Harry said. Draco started to hyperventilate.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 

Draco was the first to react constructively, once he got his breathing reasonably under control. He was, after all, used to getting into and out of serious scrapes on a daily basis. He flung out one of his hands, finding Harry's and gripping it hard. Then he spoke a word under his breath. Normally he couldn't do magic without a wand, but with Potter as back up, that was no problem.

A well of power filled him, almost drowningly full. Merlin! This was why people were so awestruck about Potter! It was incredible, this vast reserve of seething strength. The spell flowed out unrestricted, blazed into existence thrice as strong as Draco had intended. The air snapped, crackled and smoked. The werewolves holding them dropped them like they were live coals, dancing back from the sparks, shaking their smarting digits, sucking the burns into their mouths.

The wolf king growled, fur beginning to flow over his skin. Lucius turned away from the boys, looked and saw the change as it was happening. He took two steps forward and smacked his son and his Chosen to the floor, kneeling on top of them, covering them with his body. He held his hands out, palms facing the wolf.

"King Tambyn. Stop. These are my son and his friend. They pose no risk to you or to your pack. They are just meddling young-lings." Tambyn was in midshift. He glared at Lucius, and then at the youths flattened on the floor. Lastly, he looked at his wolves and their hands, still being licked over. He showed the entire room his dripping fangs. 

Lucius crouched lower. He did not want to fight the huge wolf. It would be a fight to the death. King and king. Tambyn had the physical strength, but Lucius had decades more experience. He would probably win, but at a huge cost. He wanted an alliance, not a dead enemy and a pack left with a brand new king bent on revenge. Needing to prove himself, and his worth.

Behind him Lucius heard the scuffle, a scant millisecond later he scented the shift. Graeme had changed. He heard the snarl, cut off abruptly.

"Amrys?" Lucius called. He kept his tone absolutely even. No note of anxiety. Just assurance, confidence. Anything less might provoke Tambyn and his wolves.

"I have him." Amrys assured his king.

"Yaji. Help Amrys. Do not let Graeme go." Lucius ordered. Then he switched his complete attention back to the furry man-wolf Tambyn.

"Do not let the bitch win. Do not let her see us brought to war." Lucius said. The wolf cocked it's head consideringly, one heartbeat, two, three....It's ebony eyes gleamed.

Then the shaggy head nodded. And the fur receded like a wave, until Tambyn stood, all human again. The scent of wolf was choking in the air. Lucius tried to breathe through his mouth. Graeme roared his distress. Lucius heard Amrys murmuring to the were-cat. Heard Yaji swearing, scented blood.

"The bitch? Fitting. So, you wouldn't have her win? You will let me take the boy?" Tambyn sounded much calmer, amused at the name. He sat again, wary but willing to relax, give Lucius one more chance.

"I have no choice, he is yours. Of your seed, of your blood. The pack's heir. Not the pride's." Lucius responded cautiously, rising to his feet, remaining standing over the two sprawled youths at his feet. "If you will give me your solemn word he will be treated well, he is yours without interference from me or mine."

"Of course, I would not seek to harm my own Heir. And the woman? His Mother? What of her?" The wolf king asked next. The other woman, Electra moved to his side with careful, measured steps her suspicious gaze on the were-leopards.

"She is yours as well. She has no home with us any longer. She is of no concern to us." The pride king responded at once. "But, I would not forget what she is capable of."

"I will not forget she has betrayed you. As she betrayed me. That she has a gift for it." The wolf king returned. He shook the tension out of his massive shoulders, Electra stroking him with her slender hands, leaning her body along his side.

Lucius nodded his acceptance. "Agreed. Now. I wish to take these...children back home. And deal with them as they deserve." 

Tambyn's answer was a toothy grin.

Graeme hissed, pulled out of the room reluctantly, fighting to get at every wolf they passed in the corridor. Finally, Mantheer and Yaji wrestled him up off the floor, carrying him out of the pack's lair. They paid special attention to securing his raking claws and snapping fangs.

Draco and Harry walked in the middle of the group, behind the guardians, and in front of Kaithas. Lucius and Amrys brought up the rear. 

Harry noticed how Draco hung his head. As if he was thinking hard, not as if he was frightened of what was next. Harry wondered just what the other young man could find to think about right now. Aside from the punishment they were facing for this idiotic stunt. Shit! He should have known better. He did know better. And he'd still done it.

Draco stumbled for the third time and Harry grabbed his arm, steadied him.

"Dra..." He began. And received a swat across the back of his head from Kaithas. The message abundantly clear. Be quiet. 

Silently, he walked next to Draco until they were out of the building.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 

"Draco!" Harry hissed at the taller boy. Draco was quiet, staring off into space, floating on his back in the warm water of the spring. He startled when Harry shook his shoulder.

"Harry?" His pupils were dilated, eyes unnaturally wide. He flailed out an arm, Harry caught it right before it would have smacked him across the face.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy? Did you hit your head?" Harry asked as he inched closer to the other youth while they drifted in the water. They were in here to wash off the noxious wolf-scent. But Draco hadn't even started to wash. Just hung in the water, staring off into space. A million miles away.

"Nothing is wrong. In fact, every thing is right. I've figured it out. Merlin! How could I have been so blind?" Draco said, voice growing distant again, dreamy. Harry pinched him under the surface of the water. Draco gasped, slapping at Harry's fingers.

"Draco." Harry's voice held a warning note. "You aren't making any sense. Are you drunk? High?" He asked even though he couldn't imagine when Draco might have gotten his hands on anything intoxicating.

The blond boy snorted. "No, Potter, I am not high." His eyes were focused on the present at last. Harry sighed with relief. All right then.

They'd been sent to the bathing rooms under guard as soon as they'd arrived back at the Manor. Mantheer and Yaji stood towering before the only exit to the rest of the building. Letting no one in. Nor letting the two miscreants out. Both men had their arms crossed over their chests and thunderous expressions. The king of the pride had other duties to attend to before he could address their little indiscretion.

"What have you figured out?" Harry whispered.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Draco said, a funny look on his face, as if he was a fraction disoriented. He turned his face towards Harry.

"You said you'd figured it out. What?" Harry reminded him patiently. Handing him the bar of soap and wash cloth. Draco ignored the offerings, his face going wary.

"Turn around, Malfoy." Harry gently turned Draco away from him and ran the cloth over his back. Draco jumped. Whirling around as fast as he could in the water.

"Potter..." He said warningly, "You'd better not be thinking...."

"Oh, for pities sake, Draco! Then you wash yourself! One or the other and be quick about it, 'cause we aren't going to be let out of here until we are clean. By their standards." He canted his head in the direction of their glowering guards.

"Oh." Draco said. The he leaned in. "Harry. I need your help." He whispered. Alarm bells went off in the Gryffindor's brain. His head started shaking automatically.

"After the trouble you just got me into?" He asked incredulously. "Are you nuts?"

"No. This is serious. I am serious. Just listen. Swear to me you won't tell. Tell me, honestly, if this isn't for the best." Draco hissed under his breath in Harry's ear.

"Fine. My word I'll keep your secret unless it'll get us killed. That good enough for you, Malfoy?" Harry groaned at his own stupidity for agreeing to it. He should be avoiding Draco for the rest of his life, however long that was going to be once Lucius got his hands on them. Not listening to his secrets.

"It'll do." Draco nodded, pursing his lips. He remained quiet thinking, for several long minutes.

"So...." Harry prompted, at last. Whatever it was it seemed important to the other young man. 

"I'mgoingtohaveababy." Draco muttered. Avoiding Harry's eyes. Harry's brows knit while he tried to untangle the words. Then his eyes went wide, and he gasped.

"What!" Harry yelled once he'd deciphered the sentence. He grabbed Draco's shoulders and shook him. Of all the hair brained....

Mantheer and Yaji were away from the wall and at the edge of the pool before Draco could reply. Mantheer reached into the water and lifted Draco out like he weighed less than a baby. Water ran off Draco's long, bare limbs as he literally flew up out of the pool.

"I'm fine Mantheer, I swear. Potter and I are just talking. No harm done." Draco was trying to soothe his body guard and get free of him at the same time, with little success.

Yaji had Harry by the scruff. His arm was pressed very near Harry's mouth as he dragged the boy out of the water, none too gently. Harry had had enough. He bit Yaji. Yaji responded by throwing Harry thirty feet away, to the far edge of the bathing pool. Harry hit with a huge splash, sinking under the surface, bubbles churning up a silvery froth all around him as he sank. Then, he suddenly reversed direction.

Yaji dragged him up out of the water. Harry stared at the huge man. Merlin, he must have moved fast to get here so quickly. Harry snarled at him anyway, just to show he wasn't really all that impressed.

"Yaji. Yaji. Yaji! Bring him over here. Yaji!" It was Draco calling repeatedly to the man who held Harry in a tight grip and glared down at him. Harry wasn't about to wait for the man to obey. He bunched up his legs and kicked Yaji in the middle. The man dropped him.

Harry struck out for the far edge of the pool and wasn't really terribly surprised when Yaji caught him before he'd made it even a few strokes. But, that wasn't to say he was going to let himself be captured without a fight. He was furious and so he fought, struggled, kicked and clawed. Ever since he'd been brought here, they'd pushed and pushed. Now he'd had enough of it.

Frustratingly, Yaji seemed to know what he was going to do before he did it. And the were-leopard was a thousand times stronger than Harry felt. But, Harry Potter didn't give up, he never gave up. He squirmed like a wet eel, never holding still, preventing Yaji from getting a firm grip on him. The man grunted when one of Harry's kicks connected solidly.

Harry screamed in frustrated rage. Draco was yelling at him to calm down. But, Harry couldn't stop. He couldn't. He was going to die. He had to fight. He had to. Flesh slid past his mouth again and he grabbed it with eager teeth. Biting, tasting blood, hearing shouts. He scratched out. Growling. He felt very strange. His skin burned, itched, flowed.

Harry was choking. Not on water, but on air. His body burned, all of it, every inch. He screamed. Flailed. His back arched. He heard someone saying "Get him out of the water." He kicked, raked skin with his claws, smelled blood. Claws? Since when did he have claws...? He panicked. His fur bristled up on end, tail stiff with outrage.

A ringing voice broke into the hub-bub.

"What the hell is going on here?" Lucius yelled. He looked right at Yaji and the dark furred were-leopard the guard struggled to hold on to.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

 

Graeme held the kitten to him. He was so warm and smelled so good. He nuzzled his nose into the curls of ruffled, silky, red hair at the young-ling's nape. Drew the fresh aroused scent into his nostrils. He licked up along the succulent flesh, tasting him, reveling in the explosion of sweet, clean, kitten sweat that flowed over his tongue. Ron squirmed, letting out a tiny sound, half mewl, half sigh. The furs under him added to the sensuality, caressing his skin with soft thickness.

Ron murmured a plea, arching into the lick. He stretched his throat, long and available, loving the way the sharp teeth scraped over his skin, tightening it all over his body. He craved the movement of all that power against his back, those strong arms holding him, capturing him. Compelling him to serve, while giving him so much to need, driving him to whimpered pleading. 

Graeme's fingers found their way up over Ron's chest discovering his tight nipples, rolling them, while he nipped at the exposed throat. Ron whimpered again, growling his desperation deep in his throat, a sound that Graeme heard and acknowledged with this own rumble of lust.

Graeme lifted Ron's leg, opening him, sending his fingers down below, ghosting over the exposed parts. Ron was already erect, hard, long and eager, waiting for Graeme's next move. The man's hand held him, held his fragile testes, rolling them with a gentleness that was so unexpected, so erotic, new sweat dewed Ron's body. 

Graeme slid his hard cock up between the kitten's legs. His kitten. So good. He rubbed himself along the hot flesh. Over perineum and anus, getting them wet, loving the feel of slick, slippery, intimate flesh. Loving Ron's begging gasps, his relaxed submission, giving the decisions all over to the older were-cat. 

This was what Graeme loved about this kitten. He surrendered better than any other he'd had under him. The copper-haired man positioned himself and inched into the tight heat of the young-ling's willing body. Ron let out an unsteady cry, dropping his head back and onto Graeme's muscular shoulder. Graeme pulled back a fraction then bore in, back and forth, teasing and promising, then delivering it all in one long stroke.

Ron let out a shivery moan, fingers clawing at the fur beneath him. Graeme was buried deep in the youth's body. Moving slowly, driving them both crazy with the exquisite friction. The perfect roundness of the kitten's butt was close into Graeme's pelvis, fitting their bodies so well, so made to be joined here, like this. He surged up and in, hard, but not punishing, hearing Ron's hitched breath.

The man slid his hand up and into the bright, tangled strands. He cupped the soft cheek, turned the kitten's face to the side, leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Nibbling at the soft mouth.

Ron's eyes flew wide. He moaned louder. Lips parting and hungry for the first touches of tongue on tongue, his first kiss from Graeme ever. Graeme fucked, he did not make love, he did not kiss. Not until now. Ron moved. His body thrummed with the increased sensation, with the way their mouths melded, devoured and ate at one another. Wet and so hot, Graeme sucked on the kitten's slippery tongue while he thrust up into Ron's body.

Ron writhed, his breath coming in short gasps, his hands fumbled around finding Graeme's hip and pulling him in even tighter, even deeper, arching and pushing back into the larger, stronger body. Graeme rode him, in so deep, Ron had to go limp and give in to the feel of it, to let it happen, to let it be done to him.

He was stretched, filled, plumbed. There was nothing better, nothing so breath stealing as this, as having the big cock buried in him, having the kiss going on and on, having his skin screaming for more and begging for less, it rolled over him, he could not control it, couldn't stop it, or slow it. His body released, sensation flying down his skin, his nerves, into his pelvis. 

He came so hard he was nearly unconscious. Graeme's breath huffed in his ear, over his damp cheek, fingers digging into his hips, like sculpted rock, holding him as he pumped into the tight, squeezing sheath that surrounded him. As they came virtually together, Ron's keening cry of completion caught, at last, in the other's all consuming kiss.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 

Lucius had a split second to react as the spitting, snarling beast pushed off of big Yaji, leaving fresh furrows in the guard's thighs and launched itself at the king. He caught the clawed creature with utmost care, knowing he had to support it carefully and quickly if he didn't want claws anchoring into his flesh for balance. 

One hand went down to catch the frantic kitten's hips, providing sturdy, unflinching support, the other went up around the feline shoulders. The cat's huge paws wrapped around the caps of the king's shoulders. Lucius cradled the kitten to his body, tight but not tight enough to scare the young-ling, feeling the prick of extended claws, but no digging in deep, as the kitten felt secure without it.

Gently, Lucius held the kitten. Harry. Lucius glared over the were-cat's body at his son and the two body-guards. Mantheer still had both hands on Draco's bare biceps, towering menacing and protectively behind the naked young man. Yaji stood slightly apart, blood running down his wet body in thick runnels. Draco was staring at the wounds in horror and trying to go to Yaji. Mantheer held firm.

"Explanations? Anyone?" Lucius asked, his voice soft and comforting, while his eyes sparked his enormous displeasure. The kitten rubbed it's cheek along his own. He returned the gesture, he felt a warm, moist nose push into the curve of his throat. He waited for one of the others in the room to speak.

"They thought Harry was going to hurt me." Draco volunteered, attempting to pry Mantheer's hands off. Wriggling. "Mani! Let me go!"

The big man ignored him, jerking his head at the bleeding man. Yaji moved nearer, near enough Draco could touch him. Draco stopped trying to get free, assessing the wounds he could now reach.

"Why would they think that?" Lucius asked mildly, returning the nuzzling the kitten was giving him.

"I...I told Harry something. It surprised him. He reacted badly. He yelled. But, he wasn't going to hurt me." Draco explained absently.

"What was it that you told him?" Lucius asked more pointedly with the faintest hint of sharpness in the tone. Draco was distracted by that, looking up. Biting his lip.

"Father...I..." This was not the time or place he wanted to talk to his father about his decision. He wanted to be some where private, and quiet. He wanted Lucius to take him seriously, not see this as part of just another crisis to manage.

"Spit it out, Draco. I have had enough for today." Lucius said. His eyes were silver slits. The kitten was licking his face now, enthusiastic strokes, and Draco, even across the room heard the purr. His father's muscles bunched, holding the kitten close, leaning into the wet lapping caresses.

"I have decided to bear the pride's next heir." Draco said, suddenly calm. His voice was resolute. He straightened up, Mantheer's hands going rigidly still on him. Yaji stayed where he was, but he stiffened at the announcement.

"Oh. You've decided that, have you?" Was Lucius' response. Draco was not fooled but the lazy tone. There was going to be a discussion on this. With a capital 'D'. He was not wrong. Lucius turned and headed out of the bathing room.

"Follow me," he said. And all of them obeyed. Yaji trailing a bloody dribble and red footprints.

 

Draco entered his father's private chambers for the first time since childhood. The king of the pride needed a place that was his, not open to the majority of the pride, and this was it. Where he slept, where he went when he wanted to be alone. Draco wondered, as he looked around curiously, if Mantheer and Yaji had been in here before. He remembered that Harry had said he came here, actually slept here.

Lucius went to the bed, wide and covered in furs. He mounted the bed, carrying the kitten with him, settling them both on top of it. The kitten stretched out luxuriously, its paws flexing, to show long wickedly hooked, ivory claws. It rolled onto its back, gazing with half closed eyes around the room, upside down, pink nose twitching. Lucius actually smiled at the animal, and ran a slow caress up and down the kitten's exposed, raven furred belly. It yawned, emerald green eyes closing in pure bliss, purring.

The kitten stretched, a long, shuddering stretch of all four limbs, accompanied by a huffing grunt. Lucius kept up his soothing stroke and directed his attention to his son, tugging at the were-leopard's relaxed tail.

"Draco." He said, alerting the young man that now was the time to explain himself.

"I have thought of it, the solution to the problem of the heir. I have the blood. I am not lycanthrope, but I am a wizard. With the right potions, I can bear a child for the pride." Draco got right to the point. He sensed that his father was not in the mood for pussy-footing around. 

"And just when did you have time to figure this out?" Lucius murmured, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. Harry stirred in his stupor, letting out a quizzical "rowr", with a very clear question mark tacked onto the end. He pushed his head up into the hand petting him.

"Well, I...it just came to me, that it was the answer. Why should it matter how long I've thought about it?" Draco asserted, defensively. Distracted by the odd sight of his father petting his classmate. "It is the right thing to do. I know it. The perfect solution. I am the only one of our blood left to have a child. Mother can't, you can't, and Andromeda is totally out of the question."

"And if your child is resistant to lycanthropy, as are you and your mother?" Lucius asked as he cuddled the bulky form of his changed Chosen. He favored Draco with a challenging look. As if to tell him this was his one chance to defend himself and his idea.

"I am young, I am not limited to just one child or even two." The young man replied, and he stopped it there, forbidding himself to spout endless defenses, to sink to uncertainty. 

"A pregnancy is not as easy for a young man as for a young woman, Draco." Lucius reminded him. "You may have only the one chance."

"It is what I am meant to do. I know it."Draco insisted. "I will have the conception witnessed, so there will be no doubt as to the parentage. And I will have Kaithas scanning me, I *will* bear a child who can be turned. My word."

"Your noble sacrifice?" Lucius questioned, threading his fingers though Harry's long, lush, dark fur, up behind his large, mobile, triangular ears. "You have never been anything but heterosexual. Do you seek absolution for your past? Is it a way of atoning? Life doesn't work that way." 

He sounded tired. Draco grit his teeth stopping the angry rush of words that fought to get out, the words driven to the surface by hurt. By the casual dismissal the question intimated. As much as he'd endured, his father had endured more.

"No. Not a sacrifice. I am meant to be a part of the pride. I thought I was to be its heir, its future king. But that is not possible. What is possible is that I can continue the bloodline of our kings. I can give the pride the heir it needs, with Malfoy blood. And, I can be the Mother of the heir. That is how I am meant to fit in." After he said the words, the king, his father looked right at him. At last he nodded. 

"Very well, Draco. Mantheer. Send for Kaithas. We have plans to discuss." Lucius then turned his back on the rest of the room and it's occupants. He burrowed into the silky fur of his bed companion, inhaling the pleasant, feline musk.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

 

Kaithas tried not to stare at the bizarre creature lounging on the king's bed. Harry, it was apparent, was having trouble going from were-leopard to human or vice-versa. Usually the transition was rapid, either one form or the other in a snap. Kaithas had only infrequently seen a were-animal of any persuasion in the state the young man was in.

The exception was when one was very powerful. Then a partial transformation was possible. Lucius could do it at will, fading in and out of form, Amrys almost as easily and occasionally Graeme could. Kaithas could not. It said alarming things about the young Potter's abilities. Kaithas had never heard about one so young having the ability.

Harry was sprawled over the bed furs, Lucius next to him. Harry's human face was very annoyed. His body was mostly human also. But his hands were still big, round, soft furred paws, his ears feline and the long fluffy tail was impressive. Other than that the naked boy seemed fine. He appeared in fact much more comfortable with his nudity than before. Then he opened his mouth, and mewled. 

Kaithas coughed to hide his amusement. The boy couldn't speak yet. He was betting *that* was the source of the annoyance. Potter had things he wanted to say. He hissed, showing kitty-cat fangs. Kaithas struggled harder to not smile. Harry was frustrated and by the looks of things, it was going to take a little while for him to fully change one way or the other.

Mantheer returned to the room after the Seer and went to his fellow guardian. Yaji's bleeding had all but stopped and the big were-leopard seemed to be in little if any pain. The edges of the wounds were knitting together. Mantheer was pleased by what he saw. By morning there would only be faint marks. By the end of the week, he would be completely healed, as if the incident had never taken place. 

Mantheer settled down, taking a place next to the other man and lifted one of Yaji's arms, leisurely he began to lick the other leopard clean of the dried and drying blood. The king's son watched them, swallowing hard.

Draco had taken advantage of the lull between Mantheer leaving to find Kaithas and now to get dressed in clean clothing. He was seated near the two body guards in dark shirt and trousers. He managed to look away from the grooming with an effort. Why was it so hard to do so?

Kaithas approached the bed and Lucius, presenting himself to his king. Harry growled a bit under his breath, but seemed disinclined to attack, so Kaithas thought of it as merely an irritable greeting rather than a warning. He almost changed his mind when Lucius moved toward him, reaching out and rubbing their faces together, because Harry's growl deepened and grew in volume. He felt weight shifting on the bed, and unconsciously braced himself.

Lucius took no notice of the kitten beyond swiping at him with a gentle swat. He indicated Draco with a nod. The alpha kept his body between Harry and the rest of the room's occupants.

"My son has a matter for the pride's Seer to rule on." The king said mildly. He looked at Draco. Pinning him with serious grey eyes. Sitting so Harry curled around his body, he listened to the beginning of the conversation.

"I wish to bear the pride's heir." Draco said. Each time he said it, it grew easier to say and he grew more sure that it was the right thing to do. His uncertainty was fading. Kaithas, however, looked startled.

"How old are you?" Was the first thing Kaithas asked. Draco frowned.

"I will be eighteen in one month," he responded, fixing Kaithas with steely blue eyes. Daring the other man to say he was too young.

"Young to have children for male or female." Kaithas said in return, ignoring Draco's scowl. "And, given your blood, no easy thing to assure the child will be capable of being the pride's heir."

"I am willing to have a witnessed conception and to have you monitoring me." Draco told the older man. The Seer's brows raised.

"You are willing to forgo all your privacy? Have you endured monitoring before?" Kaithas asked point blank. "Do you know what it is?"

"Only when I failed to change." Draco said, "I was scanned then, before my mother admitted she was the source of my resistance."

"When I was away from the pride." Kaithas confirmed, "I had forgotten. So, you know that I will be within your mind while the mating is occurring, and that if it fails to result in a conception that will be the heir you will have to repeat the mating until the right combination is achieved? That you will have no private thoughts?"

"I understand. I have also heard there is a manner of preparation that will virtually guarantee the child will be the heir." Draco said in reply. Not faltering in his determination.

It was Kaithas' turn to frown his disapproval. "You speak of letting me select the father of the heir, the one who will be most capable of fathering the heir. You will accept whomever I choose for the task? Without reservation?"

"I believe I know who you will select. I am also a wizard, Kaithas." Draco turned his eyes towards Harry. "And if Potter will...."

He got no further. The king of the pride came up off the bed. "MY Chosen." He said in a warning tone of voice. "I won't have him used for this, Draco."

Draco shook his head. "Your Chosen, yes I know. I only wish for him to let me, us, Kaithas and I, use his power to assure the conception is the one we want. That is all." He made a wrinkled nosed face. "I don't want him to fuck me. Ewww."

Lucius continued to glower, but Harry was up and moving to the edge of the bed, he nodded his head solemnly, making an inquiring mewl. He grimaced, and raised his brows at Draco. Kaithas, despite the seriousness of the conversation, had to bite his lip hard to fight back a small grin. The new kitten managed to telegraph plenty of meaning with his meow. Draco was also able to understand the implied question.

"It *is* what I want, Potter." The other young man responded, knowing that was Harry's concern.

"What will this use of his power consist of?" Lucius asked as Harry brushed up against his side, working his way under the king's arm and into a hug.

It was Kaithas who answered. "We will screen those who have potential to father a child with Draco. As you are aware, there are different rates of success with different fathers. I am not sure that I approve, but if Draco will agree to let me chose the father, we can come close to finding the perfect match, one that will result in a heir for the pride."

"Yet you have reservations? Why?"

"I would prefer that Draco have some connection with the man who will father his child. An emotional bond making the intimate act more palatable, rather than something that must merely be endured as a means to an end." Kaithas explained to Lucius.

"No. I will not put any restriction on the choice. I will have love separate from conception if I must. The need of the pride comes first in this instance. I will accept the father you chose into my body." Draco insisted, expression set.

Lucius looked at him long and hard. He turned to the Seer. His gaze fierce and direct. He had heard enough. Now was the time for a decision.

"Your decision on this?" Lucius asked the other man, the Seer to his pride and before him to his father's pride. A man who's judgment he trusted.

"I agree with your son. He may be Mother to the heir of the pride." Kaithas said slowly, praying silently that it would be the right decision.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

 

Draco looked up at the members of the pride who walked past him. They reached out to him, most knew him, had watched him grow. At one time they'd believed him to be the future of the pride. Each sniffed him. Learning for themselves that he was not with child, reacquainting themselves with the youth who at one time had been the heir himself. And now sought to give them back a future, with a child of his body, who would be the heir.

He sat on the rectangular rock that was the king's throne, furs draped it, cushioned it, warmed the cold stone, but still he shivered. Thick crimson velvet and silk covered his own body. 

Beneath the cloth he was naked, in preparation for the night's further activity. He curled his toes under and hid his bare feet in the folds of the voluminous robes. He tried to take comfort in the fact these were new robes. Not the ones his mother had worn when he had been conceived. These robes were new and carried no history of failure. He loved her, but she had lied. Now he had a chance to defeat that lie she had told, to make it unimportant, simply past history. If he gave the pride a new birth to celebrate.

While the endless greeting line progressed, Kaithas and Harry Potter sat behind him, Harry sitting close enough to offer support. Harry himself was held in the arm of the pride's king, Lucius. Held secure against the strong body and deep chest. Imparting what he could of his own comfort to the young man who leaned along his side.

Standing to either side of the throne stood Mantheer and Yaji, both tall and immobile pillars, patiently waiting. Graeme and Amrys were next to Lucius. All stayed silent as the procession continued, until the last of the pride finished. Then the gathering arena was cleared.

Remaining was the core of the pride's leadership. 

Draco looked only at his hands, he found suddenly he did not have the courage to look at the men who surrounded him, who would watch him in this most intimate of acts. His request had been the reason they were here, why they would watch all of it.

A hand touched his bowed head. No words, just a touch, and he turned into that hand, knowing it from years of growing up and being cared for. Years of being protected. He knew if he only said the word, that hand would carry him away from here. Suddenly the last place he wanted to be. But, now he thought that maybe he could get through it.

Draco lifted his head. He met the gaze of the Seer who had come around to stand in front of him.

"Do you wish this to happen, Draco Malfoy?" Kaithas asked with gentleness. 

Draco reached up and took the hand that was comforting him. Mantheer's rough palm was reassuringly familiar as he held it. He turned his head to the other side and Yaji was there, crouched down so their eyes were on a level. Without saying anything Yaji asked what Draco wanted. 

It was time. Draco looked up at Kaithas. drew in a deep breath.

"Yes. I want to do this."

"Then let it begin."

The fire crackled, the only light in the arena. Casting a golden-red glow throughout the room. Draco let Kaithas' careful hands bear him backwards to rest flat on the stone. The catches and ties of the robe were loosed and opened, until he was framed in crimson red silk. His naked body white in stark contrast. 

Harry came closer, leaning down and placing both palms on Draco's upper arms as Kaithas had counseled. His raven hair brushed Draco's forehead. A kiss was laid on his cheek.

Lucius loomed off to one side, stern and regal as he observed. More king than father this night. Though his tight jaw spoke to the difficulty of that.

Mantheer and Yaji knelt shoulder to shoulder, a wide wall on the opposite side from the king, who had Graeme beside him. Kaithas took a step towards the head of the throne walking slowly until he was behind Harry one hand on each of the young-ling's shoulders. 

Amrys, the man Kaithas had chosen to father the heir, climbed up onto the stone. Draco let out a small yip as the blond man parted his thighs, moved up between them. Amrys stilled, his eyes fixed on Draco's face. He waited as a spasm closed the legs tight around him, so tight he could not move without hurting the youth.

At last Draco felt the worst of the tremors abate, he nodded at the pride's second. He watched Amrys move forward, gloriously nude, a beautiful man. But Draco had never been much moved by beauty not feminine. What he saw was power, strength to great for him to resist it. Any fight he would lose. Amrys could do whatever he wished and Draco had not the power to stop him.

Amrys lifted his legs, resting them on his own thighs. His hand went to Draco's buttocks, just holding him, trying to get him used to the feel of bigger hands on him. Draco let his head fall back with a muffled thump.

Amrys' fingers touched him intimately, and at the same time Harry was suddenly inside his mind. Kaithas was a dim shadow compared to the shining, overwhelming, brightness of Potter. Draco gasped, writhed up and away from the were-leopard between his legs. He turned his head, met the hundreds of watching eyes. It was too much, too many. His thighs spasmed.

"No!" He panted. "No!"


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

 

Amrys was up and away the instant the first "no" sounded. 

Draco just lay trembling. Harry was bent over, his face next to his friend's. He squirmed around out of Kaithas' hold and wrapped himself around Draco, feeling for the robes and tossing them to cover him.

"I have to, I have to," Draco was crying as he said it. It was clear that his body and mind were of different views.

"No you don't." Harry told him, stroking his soft blond hair. "You don't have to."

"Harry! I do need to. I can't explain...." Draco rotated until they were plastered together front to front, his back to the curious crowd. His arms hugging tight to the other. "It's only that I don't know what to expect."

"Who would you trust to show you?" Harry asked. "Sometimes trust is more important than anything else. Perhaps for the first time..." Draco shook his head against Harry's neck.

"I...trust Amrys." He said. And he did. It was just having a man between his legs, knowing he was going to let the man into his body, let him penetrate him. Well, it was harder than he expected to lay still and let it happen, that was all.

"Not enough for this, Draco." Harry told him quietly.

"I do. I just need to...it needs to be...different." Draco couldn't articulate exactly what he meant. He grimaced, 'way to go, Malfoy,' he thought. 'You've talked everyone else into it, now you can't go through with it. What are they going to think of you after this?'

"You can wait." Harry said.

"Yes." It was Kaithas who spoke next. The bigger man was bent low over them. His eyes greatly concerned. "This does not have to be done today. Tomorrow will do just as well, or the next day. Or next week. Do not force yourself. When the time is right..."

"No. No. I need to do it now, tonight. I'll be alright." Draco said, urgently. Kaithas and Harry, well really all the men in the room, were watching him with worry and caring. He resisted the urge to hide his blushing face. 

Mantheer and Yaji watched, eyes both very sad. They wanted to save him from this, because it was hurting him, upsetting him. Yet, they would support him if he wished, standing by him as he met the obligations he chose to set for himself.

"Fine. Let me help you?" Harry said at last after the silence drew itself out long, becoming almost uncomfortable. Amrys was looking at Draco with wary eyes.

"Please. I need to do this," Draco said again. This time he was looking back at Amrys, as if afraid the man would refuse to follow through. 

"I know. We'll get you through it. I promise." Harry reached out towards Mantheer and Yaji, beckoning them closer.

"Get behind him. Hold him." Harry told the big man, Yaji, but he was surprised when Lucius was there instead, gently moving the guardian aside. Lucius scooped his son up, enfolding him in his sheltering arms, the red robes falling like weighted, scarlet water around them both. Draco held on like he needed an anchor in a storm, arms wound around his father's neck and upper body, his face buried in the sweet scented, flowing blond hair, so like his own.

"We do not need to do this here." The king's silver gaze took in all those who stood around the throne. "Come. If my Chosen can sleep in my bed, the heir can be conceived there." He strode out of the room, carrying the young man, his son, in his arms.

 

The king's room was quieter, with much fewer people in it than had been in the arena. The feeling of intimacy and privacy was comforting, Draco instantly felt better as Lucius lay him on the bed furs, loosening his robes, spreading them out. He gestured to Mantheer and Yaji.

"Change," the king said and they obeyed. He beckoned the two furry were-leopards, one a bit lighter, the other a bit darker, up onto the bed, to lay one on each side, so Draco was shielded, held without being held, embraced by warmth and security, by the two who had kept him safe all of his life. Nothing bad would happen while they were so close. Draco knew that. He began to relax, his hands filled with their fur, rubbing and holding, nervously.

"Harry, Kaithas." Lucius called them and they moved up to the head of the bed. Harry grasped the hand Draco held up to him.

"Is this better? Harry asked. And was relieved when the other young man nodded. Harry curled up around Draco's head, sliding effortlessly into mental contact with him. This time Draco was not frightened, he was ready, he did not resist the slow merging, it was not an invasion now. He expected it. It was familiar and he did not feel the need to flee or to resist.

There was not so much blinding brightness this time, rather a steady glow in his brain and the shadow he associated with Kaithas, the Seer was more pervasive, modulating the brightness, making it bearable, using his skills to tame the awesome power of Harry Potter to a tolerable level. Draco sighed. He almost didn't notice when Amrys joined him on the bed.

The pride's second rested his strong hands on Draco's thighs, patient, non-threatening, merely holding him, letting him adjust to the contact. It was better, Draco could do it like this. He let his legs fall open, meeting Amrys' eyes. This man was the father of the heir. The Sire. Draco welcomed him, extending the hand that Harry wasn't holding. The relief on the older man's face was immediate. He smiled down.

Draco was aware of Harry's thoughts and memories as Amrys touched him. Harry was recalling how Lucius' hands felt as they wandered over his body. His arousal at the memory was seeping into Draco's consciousness, warming him. He let Amrys touch him, spreading slickness, as Draco lay secure, safe between his leopard guardians.

"Do you accept me?" Amrys asked softly, leaning close.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

 

Submission. That was it, the hang up, the one thing that terrified him most, Draco thought. He was a Malfoy. He'd been raised to be a ruler, a leader. He did not do submission well. He had never learned how. But, that was what was required now.

Harry on the other hand, in spite of his wealth of power, knew how to submit. And how to make the submission graceful and erotic. Now, Harry was inside his mind, sharing this experience and Harry was guiding him, helping him to understand. Draco was going to learn to do it right. To give in.

Draco sighed, a deep release of tension, a surrendering of fear and embraced the feeling of what was happening to him. It was good. Who would have guessed not being in control could feel like this? Like a caress of velvet over his skin, each stroke of the large hand. The thumbs spreading him open, a light, slippery touch.

Draco associated men with force, with brash confidence and authority. With taking when it came to sex, not giving. Harry had a subtly different view. He expected strength, got it, and still demanded gentleness, even as he gave up his control. He surrendered his control to get what he wanted. The man he gave himself to had to cherish him, he would accept nothing less than being treated as a precious lover.

The concept astonished Draco. His passionate encounters with women had not been that way. They had been pleasant, some of them truly sexy. Yet, none had held the bone-deep craving he felt from Harry's memory of the couplings he'd had with the king of the pride. The man Harry called his lover. Draco's father.

Hands lifted his hips, careful, caring hands, oh so strong ones. Draco let it happen, bending into position, accepted the slick fingers opening him, sliding inside, stretching him. The wetness massaging him. It didn't hurt. He had expected pain. What he felt now was both relaxing and exciting. He wasn't aroused so much, not yet, but he was liking the way he was being touched. It felt good.

Amrys moved closer, lifted Draco up until his buttocks rested on his thighs, shifting his long fingers into the body spread out before him. Hot and lovely. The small hole yielding to his explorations. He watched his fingers disappearing inside the taut ring of muscle. He touched the small bundle of nerves inside the youth and was rewarded with a sharp cry, turning into a long, low moan. Draco shuddered, his belly twitching, a flat stretch of muscle. His erection filling.

Draco let out a breath, a sigh, of pure, sweet pleasure. His penis was stirring, half hard as it lay on his belly. The stretching was the best. Draco did not analyze why, he just liked it. The touch gliding in and out, turning inside of him. He wanted more, he wanted larger things inside, things that would fill him full. He also, unusually for him, didn't feel like he had to do anything but enjoy the feeling.

The next touch was blunter, slower. Oh. Yes. Amrys, long and thick and hard. Draco wanted it. He loved the sensation, how his body opened, took the invader in. The dilation was exquisite, deepening until he dropped his head back and shivered, just taking what he was being given. He turned his face to one side, felt fur and heat as he rubbed against the flank of the leopard. Harry smoothed his hair back. Kissing him softly, soothingly, on the forehead.

This time Draco didn't need the soothing, he arched up, opening to the man sinking into his body. He let out a soft keen. The rest of the men in the room felt the sound filter through all of their nerves, drawing their skin tight, clutching at their chests, sharp and immediate need, drawing them all closer to the two who were coupling.

Amrys went in deep, slow, and gentle as he moved, careful to do nothing to turn the young man's pleasure into pain. His big hands held the slim hips, supported them, moved them as he went, a wave of motion, advancing and receding. He rode the slender body, feeling the hot, wet flesh, melting around his erection, virgin tight. He pressed in further, back curving, rotating his hips, stirring the tunnel around his cock and Draco cried out, his legs hitching higher, falling wider, supported on the furred backs of the were-leopards to each side, giving Amrys the message, the older man understood it well. The pale body was his, to pleasure as he willed.

The curve of the young man's pale flesh, his bared throat was temptation the were-leopard on his left could not resist. Yaji nuzzled his feline nose into it and was rewarded by a sharp inhalation as Draco's nipples peaked. Amrys saw and drew them into tight little peaks with his fingers as he thrust harder, far deeper this time and Draco groaned.

Harry panted in time to Draco, experiencing the penetration every bit as much as the blond young man was. In tandem they gasped, breath mingling, hot, brushing past one's cheek, then the other's, Harry licking his face, Draco unable not to do the same, unable not to repeat the wet lap of tongue along Harry's cheek.

Harry suddenly groaned, long and drawn out, almost pain, but more desire. Draco looked up, noting that Lucius had come to kneel behind Harry, running hand down his side, over his buttocks. Harry trembled and the tremor passed from him all the way through Draco and into Amrys' flesh. Harry sank his teeth into Draco's shoulder, letting out a cry against his skin.

Draco felt it, the rhythm of sex, from between his legs and from above, Harry was being taken, as he was. The cries multiplied, drove him higher, he gasped, writhing, the intensity of Amrys' pumping into him growing exponentially. Harder, deeper, longer. Shivering in every nerve, forcing him to moan. Sweat beading on all his skin. Harry's hands clasped in his, they braced each other, both young men being ridden, the slap of flesh loud, the moans, louder.

Draco felt it begin. The gathering of power at the small of his back, his thighs, all growing and coalescing, intensity building, Harry's breath harsh, fast, uncontrolled, as his own. The begging words, not his, because he was beyond speech, as the sensations all rushed to his pelvis, his genitals, and into the depths of his body, clamping around Amrys' every thrust.

Draco screamed. It rolled over him, turning every muscle to jelly, he peaked. He felt the jets of heated seed empty into him, fill him, and he felt the repeat of the same happening to Potter. While Harry whimpered, Draco groaned, helpless, he couldn't move, he could only take it, every slowing thrust, each shared shudder, until there was nothing left and Amrys collapsed on top of him, rolling to the side so he wouldn't crush the smaller man.

Sated. Oh, God. Limp. Sated, so deeply satisfied he couldn't even lift his head, or speak his thanks. Only pant, trying to recover his breath. Kaithas' hands were on him, comforting, touching his abdomen. Seeking the new life Draco already knew was there.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

 

Andromeda prowled her velvet and silk prison. She was furious that the werewolves thought they had a right to hold her here at all. It was utterly ridiculous. She had no obligation to tell the wolf king, she snarled at that appellation, that she'd had a baby. The baby was hers, the heir to the leopard pride. Not a stinking werewolf.

She kicked at one of the heavy chairs topped with many pillows that filled the room. They wanted to pretend they could make her comfortable. Make this arrangement the perfect solution. Tambyn came and spoke with her, brought Christoper, but she was never permitted to see the child alone. Her own son.

Tambyn, when she indignantly complained, told her up front that he didn't trust her to keep the boy safe. She gnashed her teeth. She had raised him, alone! Her! Not him. How dared he pass judgment when he had offered no help at all. It totally escaped her escalating fury, that she herself had kept him in the dark.

Now she was stuck. In this place, unable to bargain with Lucius for the return of the heir to the pride, in exchange for certain concessions long overdue her. Both as a leader of the pride and as the Mother of the heir. There was a list of changes that she would demand. If Tambyn would just let her send out a message.

She'd tried to seduce him. That had met with failure. The silly idiot had allowed himself to be paired with some alpha bitch and now he was faithful to her. Andromeda shook her head. If she had time she'd take over this pack and show them how a ruler lived, how a ruler ran things. But she had to get back to the pride first of all. That was priority one.

Bribery had also met with failure. That had been her first choice. Throw money and the promise of power, alliances at her guards. But they'd been too stupid to be interested in her offers. They'd actually dared to ignore her.

So what that left her with, since outright methods weren't working, was cunning. She needed a good sneaky plan that would get her free of this place. She would have to come back for Christopher. Too bad, but she knew she would be caught if she tried to take him with her during her initial escape. No. She needed to get free and then work on a rescue for her beautiful child.

It was possible that having Christopher held by the pack could be used to her advantage. Dropping a hint or two to the pride that he was a prisoner and mistreated ought to result in some reaction. A move to save the pride's heir. The pride would respond. She considered that eventuality with one of the few smiles she'd indulged in since being taken hostage. Oh yes. This might be the final straw, the way to turn the pride against Lucius.

A scratching noise and a muffled thump distracted her. It came from the hall outside her gilded room. She moved to the side of the door, listening hard. Damn her brother! If he'd agreed to turn her then she'd be able to hear everything happening out there clearly. 

As it was she heard more thumps and gasps, as if someone was in pain. She wrinkled her nose. Something smelled bad, very bad. She needed no enhanced sense of smell to tell her that. Probably one of the foul beasts keeping her here.

She took several hasty steps back when she heard the sound of a key turning in the big old fashioned lock of the door. It screeched as it turned, because the wolves had taken no trouble to oil the lock. Woeful neglect, not that she expected better. 

The door began to push into the room as it opened. Andromeda backed up, looking around and finding a nice sturdy candlestick. Sort of a cliche weapon, but hey, she cold not be too picky on such short notice. and the instrument had nice heft. It would be capable of doing damage, if that was necessary.

The door swung in further, and she saw a hooded figure push partway inside. She raised the candlestick, preparing to strike and then make a run for it. A perfect opportunity for escape should not be squandered. The form lifted it's head. Andromeda felt mildly ill. She knew that face. Or at least part of it. It was a terrible combination of male and female, human and beast.

"Come!" The ragged voice was almost worse than the face. But Andromeda liked to think of herself as a practical woman. She did not hesitate to move for the door and freedom. She followed Sybil Trelawny out into the hall. Her eyes fell on the collapsed forms of the guards laying on the flagstones. She made no effort to hide the satisfied smirk that graced her face at the sight.

Andromeda stepped over the fallen werewolf, grinning ferally. She delivered a swift kick in the ribs to the unconscious wolf. Stinking beast! It served him right! He'd rejected her offers, now he was paying for it. Andromeda tossed her long blonde hair and followed the shuffling hooded figure out of the corridor.

No need to tempt fate. A swift withdrawal was called for. Plenty of time for gloating later. After she got her son back. Then there would be ample time for revenge on those who had wronged her. And she would be a bit firmer than she'd first intended when she got down to the negotiations.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

 

Lucius Malfoy looked up when his second entered the room. The tall, blond man moved with an undeniable grace. The king smiled, a slight twisting of his lips as he watched.

This then was the new Sire, a man who, if he wished, could demand equal or nearly equal rank with the king in the pride's hierarchy. Interestingly, Lucius was not worried. He knew Amrys. His second was content in his position. He was dedicated, loyal. The perfect combination of aggression and submission. Protecting, advising and supporting Lucius as the pride's alpha ruler.

The king's attention returned to the missive in his hand. An owl had delivered it less than half an hour ago. Lucius had opened the letter, read it, and now sat considering the unwelcome contents. That damed man had gall, he had to admit. To *demand* anything from the pride. He never requested. He ordered, demanded and insisted. As if he, a human magician, had the right.

Lucius was disturbed. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was moving to normalize things, but Lucius was not certain the evidence that the troubles were over was sufficient to do so. Putting his pride's kittens at risk for the sake of appearing "normal" was not an option. The kittens were the future, they had to be kept safe. He held the crumpled letter from the older wizard in one big fist, his eyes gone dangerous silver as he glowered. 

Amrys stepped up close, taking care to come in sideways as he neared the king, not using a frontal approach which might be interpreted as a challenge. The silver eyes narrowed, speculatively, raking his second's body head to foot, assessing with automatic ease and long practice the threat he represented. Or not. Amrys went gracefully to his knees, laying his cheek on the king's strong thigh. Determined to make it clear he was no threat at all, not to his king.

"What is it?" The kneeling man asked, when the tension eased and Lucius' hand came to his nape. There was a quick prick of claws, but they did not dig deep. Amrys remained still, waiting, feeling the vibrating anxiety move through the other man. Within moments Amrys was rewarded with the king's confidences.

"Dumbledore has written to me. The school is safe once more, he thinks. He demands that Draco, Ron, Blaise and Harry return to their lessons." Lucius replied, his rich voice sending shivers over his second's lithe body. As the news sent a frisson of fear lancing through him.

"Was the beast caught? I had not heard..." Amrys asked brow wrinkling, worried. He rubbed his cheek along the outside of his king's leg. Amrys lifted his head to look up into Lucius' grim face.

Amrys would not willingly put the Mother of the heir at risk. He had endeavored to protect Andromeda, who he had actively despised, because of her sacred position as the Mother. Now Draco held that position, carrying the heir that Amrys himself had fathered, Amrys actually cared for and loved the young man, for all that they were not lovers. No one would be allowed to harm Draco, not while Amrys drew breath and could prevent it.

"No. The monster has not been caught. Nor has it been seen again, no other students have been harmed. Dumbledore has set up wards to prevent outsiders from getting onto school grounds. So he says the students are now safe." Lucius sounded as if he did not believe such actions were great enough a guarantee.

"You do not think it is truly so?" Amrys looked up, the king's hand coming to rest against his tanned cheek. The strong thumb caressing his face with long, sure strokes.

"I think the risk is too great. If Draco returns, it will be with his guardians, Mantheer and Yaji. I am not certain about how to approach the question of Harry, Ron and Blaise. Harry is my Chosen. I would not see harm come to him, nor to the other kittens. I need my Chosen by my side." Lucius said with slow consideration. 

"The completion of his course of study at Hogwarts is secondary to his service to the pride." Lucius' second declared. The king looked down at him, smiling. 

"Your loyalty does you credit. But, there may come a time in the boy's future where his education at Hogwarts is necessary to him."

"You seek to be too fair, my king. The pride is your first priority. It must always be so." Amrys said, laying the side of his face back onto Lucius' leg to diminish the challenge in his statement. Lucius allowed the words to pass.

 

There was a commotion in the hall, running feet, more than one pair. Lucius stood and drew Amrys up with him.

Blaise burst into the room, followed by several of the other kittens. Lucius had a split second of absolute panic, thinking all sorts of terrifying possibilities. Up to and including the death of his son or of his Chosen. Blaise paused and tried to catch his breath, the excitement more than physical exertion making it short. 

Amrys took a step closer to the young-ling, interposing himself between the king and the kitten. Blaise was panting, his face white, distressed. 

"What is it, young-ling?" Amrys asked the frightened kitten, voice firm and reassuring, he laid a gentling hand on the shaking arm, pulling the shaking youth into his embrace.

"Oh, my king!' Blaise fell to his knees. "A messenger from the wolves has arrived. He says Andromeda has escaped, my king. She left three dead in her wake. And there was a foul stench left behind her. Tambyn wonders if it was the smell of the one who has been attacking the children at Hogwarts."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

 

Andromeda was furious. She had been lured into a trap by the woman she had been using to further her own plans. And she had not even suspected it. She should have. The bitch was insane, incapable of hiding anything, but in her own arrogance, Andromeda failed to look for duplicity. Now she was caught, albeit temporarily, like a bug in a web.

It was clear as anything to Andromeda now, as she was a captive. She had to watch, stay alert and find a way out of this hellhole. The creature brewing potions was not paying due attention to her and that meant at some point, Andromeda would have an opportunity to escape. She had to be patient.

Now she was restrained, while the foul creature that was Sybil Trelawny was bleeding her valuable blood into to a gleaming, highly polished copper bowl. The witch was licking her dry lips with a long grey tongue, the rasping sound driving Andromeda crazy with skin ruffling irritation. Lick, lick, lick. Ugh. Truly nauseating.

The blood dripped slowly, Trelawny muttering in an undertone, watching each glistening, crimson drop with hungry eyes. Her eyes were the only part of her that Andromeda recognized. The rest, most of which was mercifully hidden beneath her heavy cloak, was disgusting, deformed, and lopsided. A fearful combination of things not meant to be combined. Clearly the result of one of her transforming spells gone horribly, horribly wrong. 

Andromeda refused to allow herself to shudder. She was not a mere human to cave into terror. She was destined to rule the were-leopard pride. She was a Queen. One denied her birth-right, but still a queen. And she would not crumble. She would maintain her dignity in the face of this injustice. She would win in the end. She only had to be patient. 

Andromeda sighed, and watched the foul old bat stirring whatever concoction she was mixing up. It smelled just awful. Looked worse. Yuck.

 

Amrys watched as the owl flew, snowy white wings beating at the greying air. It was nearly time for the storm to break, but the owl was charmed and the weather would not trouble her. She would reach her destination by tomorrow morning.

Lucius had left this task in his hands, knowing it would be well done. He had given his blessing and the missive bore his king's mark. Amrys though, had been the one to decide that the were-leopard he now owled should return home. The order for it flew with the speed of the wind, held in the secure claws of the owl.

He had thought long on just who would be the best to recall from distant lands to perform the job the pride needed done. To find the risk to the students and eliminate it. Then to teach the students who remained at the pride's stronghold. Amrys had considered many, but the best had risen to the top of the heap quickly. There was no question. 

Bill Weasley was his first choice, an expert at curse breaking, and protective spells. He could discover what was killing the Hogwarts' students, and thus threatening the pride's kittens. And he could teach the boys if they did not return to the school. 

Second choice, and not second by much, would be Charlie Weasley, a master of the beasts, and Dragons in specific. He would be able to find any beast, even the magicked one who had eluded the gifted tracker Mantheer. And no one denied he had a gift for teaching and the patience of a saint. He had to, with the irritable Dragons he cared for.

The owl, a mere dot in the sky as he watched it fly, was on the way to Bill. Amrys would expect to hear back in less than two days. If Bill could not come, then the owl would go on to Charlie. 

Dumbledore would not get any answers from the pride before then. Lucius had sent him a missive, outlining the full problem and telling the Headmaster of the escape. Surely the old man would be alarmed enough to take more precautions, and understand why the kittens could not return yet.

The risk to the young-lings was too great to allow them to return to Hogwarts in the near future. Secretly, Amrys knew Lucius did not want to be separated from Harry, his Chosen for that long. The kitten still came to their bed, was permitted to sleep there, a place no kitten had ever been allowed to sleep before. Harry Potter was changing things. Graeme was furious, but thankfully distracted lately. 

Amrys admitted to himself he did not want Draco out of his sight for a day, much less an entire term. Even knowing that Mantheer and Yaji would watch over the Mother of the heir. That they cared for Draco's safety every bit as much as Amrys did, it was still not enough for his peace of mind. The heir was too valuable to risk his loss, and the Mother's worth was almost as great. 

The pride had lost two heirs, Draco and Christopher, though neither had died, and two Mothers, Narcissa and Andromeda. It could not afford to do so again, it was a loss so great that it would crumble the pride should it occur. Draco carried the sacred blood of the pride's royalty inside his body. The pride needed this heir, desperately.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

 

Draco Malfoy felt different. 

It was far too soon to feel pregnant, he told himself, but he swore he did. He touched his belly many times during the day, holding his palm over the place he believed the child grew. He liked to think loving thoughts at the growing life inside him. He smiled as he looked forward to the day he would hold his child in his arms. 

He felt energized. Purposeful. Valued as he hadn't in a long time. Not since he found he wasn't the heir to the pride. When he'd found he could not be turned. When he found out he would always be human, never pride.

Strangely, he was also developing a friendship with one of the last people he would have thought. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Formerly known to the Slytherins as "the Wanker Who Irritated". Draco thought Harry a real prat when they were at school together. Arrogant and a complete Gryffindor. Now Draco was beginning to appreciate some of those traits, the same traits he'd once laughed at and ridiculed. Loyalty. Friendship. Courage.

Harry had stood with him, offering him support. He'd listened when Draco needed to be heard. And he'd held Draco when he'd been terrified of giving in to Amrys, terrified of losing his virginity to a man, even by his own choice. Harry had made it possible for Draco to be the Mother. Oh, he'd probably have managed to accept Amrys sometime in the future, with lots of agonizing and unpleasantness and maybe a little alcohol. But with Potter he'd done it in one day. Gone from fear, to acceptance, to pleasure, to Mother. All of it mostly painless. All of it worth it.

Now he'd found this most unusual room, *the* room, and he couldn't wait to show Harry his discovery. Draco never stopped hunting through the vastness of the Manor. It had been one of his favorite pastimes as a child. And he still had a taste for it, exploring on his own. There were secret places known to very few. And secret places known only to the pride. And then there was this place. 

The room was dark, lit by one Everburning Candle. The walls gleamed, a nut brown marble polished to a shine by centuries of reverent fingers. It smelled faintly of wax, not unpleasant, sort of a religious scent, Draco thought. As if over the years many scholars had studied in here, some of the monks. He didn't question why he felt that to be true. 

The walls were carved with runes. Dark slashes in the rock. Outlining the laws of the pride. All the way up to the highest corners. And down to the very lip of the floor.

Draco wondered why he had never learned about this room before. If all pride members knew of it, then Harry knew of it. But Draco was willing to bet he did not. Potter was always clamoring about not being let in on one rule or another. Now here was the "book" the young were-leopard was always asking for. The written rules. 

Lines and lines of writing, cut deeply into the stone. Too much to read in one or a dozen sittings. Even if one were, say Hermione Granger. Nope, even Granger would need a month or more. The runes were not all easy to decipher, some were obscure, with both ancient and modern, as well as transitional meanings. But, Harry would want to know. Even if the lists gave him more questions, not fewer. he would want to know this room was here.

He found Potter in the library, reading, a tall tower of books at his elbow. Harry's eyes were tired, as if he'd been reading too long. Or not sleeping well. Draco caught the emerald green gaze and jerked his head towards the hall. Harry grinned and closed his book. He took his time walking out of the room. He was familiar enough with Draco to not want to draw undue attention to anything the other boy was doing.

They walked companionably side by side.

"Wait until you see this, Potter." Draco exclaimed as they headed towards the room.

Harry let out a gasp when he moved into the room. He cast around, looking everywhere, finding no square inch of rock that was bare. His sharp feline vision allowed him to read it, even the words up in the high corners. The laws of the pride, of all the feline were-prides. Carved in stone. He felt a nervous giggle trying to rise in his throat. He'd once made a joke about the rules being carved in stone. This was just...unbelievable.

The wolves and the rodents no doubt had other rules. But Harry now had an in to the way the pride was run. He wondered...

"Why didn't anyone tell me this was here?" He asked aloud. Tilting his head to meet Draco's look, the blond shrugged, a smile on his face.

"I don't know, Harry." Draco responded. "I just found it, no one told me about it. Thought you might like to see it. Before someone finds out and tells us we can't come here, or something."

"Why would this place be kept secret?" Harry mused, stepping up to the wall and touching the words with careful, shaking fingers. The room was making him feel strange. As if ghostly presences hoovered in the still air. As if he was being watched, not by any malevolent spirit, but simply being watched over. He felt the sacredness of the room. The quiet that was only rarely felt, the clam of an inner hold of a church or temple. The sacred place.

"I never knew it was here, they never told me. And they never told you. Maybe there are only certain members of the pride allowed here? I don't know. Someone comes here. It is spotless. Not even dust in the grooves." Draco ventured, running a finger over the markings. "We'd better not let anyone know we've been here. Just a hunch."

Harry nodded. His eyes were roaming, his heart thumping. He began to read. He knew he wouldn't get far, not today, but he was compelled to read, just a little.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

 

Harry tilted his head and stopped walking. Draco stopped next to him, instinctively inching closer to the other boy. Harry had gone eerily still, as if he was a statue, not alive.

"What is it, Potter?" Draco whispered as quietly as he could, skin tightening in a ripple of anxiety.

"I thought I heard..." Harry mumbled, head canted, as if he was listening. Draco listened as hard as he could with his human senses, but heard nothing. He was about to say it, when Harry twitched, the tension melting away from his long, slim body as he moved off.

Harry took a few running steps. Draco watched, moving after him without hesitation. He'd known of course that Harry was an athlete. They'd played Quidditch together after all. They'd been pretty equal on that field. Not any more. The way Harry moved now, it was beyond athletic. It was all feline, hunter's grace, impossible to look away from. Merlin, Draco realized with a shock, Potter was beautiful when he moved.

Harry rounded the corner, the disconcerted blond man following him, and froze. Draco felt the change in the body in front of him as they collided because of Harry's abrupt halt. He heard the hitch of Harry's breath, felt the pain vibrating through the taut body. Not knowing how he knew it was pain, but sure of it.

Harry let out a sound that was more sob than anything else. Draco wrapped his arms around the slender torso of his friend. Harry was crying, his chest heaving. Why? My god, why?

"Harry!" Draco hissed urgently, turning the other man towards himself, holding him tight, stroking his perennially disheveled, raven hair. "What is wrong?"

Then he saw them, way down the hall in an alcove. Tangled arms and legs, dark caramel skin bisected by pale ivory. Long silver, gold hair, meshed with lush darkness. They were stunning together, light and dark. Slender and ethereal, coupled with powerful masculine muscle. 

His father and Troy, one of the young-lings from the year before Harry was turned. Troy's blue-black hair fell in a wave to the floor, thick and shining, his head thrown back, lips parted, gasping, throat bared for his king's attentions, gloriously nude head to foot. And Lucius was paying the throat homage, biting and licking while his lower body moved against the body of his young-ling, while Troy's legs wound round his king's hips.

Now Draco could hear the sounds of sex that had drawn Harry's attention, the pleasured moans. He could not look away, even as he held Harry's face against his chest, so the Chosen could not see it. My god, he thought, my father, he is...there is no one who can compare to him. His eyes raked over the proud muscles, and perfect male form. He had never noticed before. But then, what son looked at his father that way? Lucius had always been his father first. Now he was seeing him with a stranger's eyes.

Draco knew Troy was not one of the Claimed and Marked before today, he was a kitten of the pride, but now he was Lucius', if his father chose to advertise it to the pride. Draco also had assumed that Lucius was falling for Harry. In purely human terms, he'd thought his father was going to be faithful to the sobbing young man who he now held, tightly, trying to comfort him. 

Now, Draco remembered, saw it from a split perspective. Draco was human, his father was not. Lucius Malfoy was all pride-king. He took pleasure with his people where he wished. But, Harry was still too human to cope. He had had no warning of this, Draco himself had not thought to tell him. Harry'd been admitted to the king's bed, a thing never done. Naturally, he'd expect to have the kind of monogamous relationship that showed he was special. The Gryffindor would think he deserved human-type fidelity in the choice of lovers. 

"Harry..." Draco started, seeking words that would help, and finding none.

Harry let out a scream, brimming with pain, and wrenched himself away from Draco, too strong for the other youth to stop, fleeing in the opposite direction of the king and his new paramour. Lucius looked up, startled by the sound, lowering his body to protect the young-one under him. Saw his son and Harry as he disappeared around the corner.

Draco would never forget the look of surprise, then concern on his father's face. It was very clear that Lucius didn't understand exactly what was wrong. He recognized that his Chosen was upset. He looked for threats, found none, was puzzled by the outburst. Feline to the core, he was having trouble figuring it out, understanding, why. Kittens weren't permitted jealousies and possessiveness. Those emotions came with power and position. Lucius expected Harry to submit and accept. 

Draco understood both points of view. He ached for Harry and was enraged at his father for being caught by the youth in this situation. Though he knew it was the right of the king to take whomever he wished. A right Draco had never questioned. A right that, had he become king, he would have exercised. Sex was affection in the pride. 

Love and devotion were separate things from sex. No one loved his father more than Amrys and Graeme. But, as far as Draco knew, the second and third rarely had sex with Lucius, if ever. When the three had been younger, it was not unusual to find them locked together, passionately entwined on any convenient flat surface within the Manor. Now, though, most of their public touches were gestures of dominance and submitting to authority of the king, the love between them was far more obvious. At least to Draco and to the pride.

But Harry was human. Harry didn't know. No one had given him any teaching. He did not stay with the other young-lings, he had not learned what it was to be a kitten from them. Harry had refused to obey, to keep to his place. And now he was being hit in the face with the realities of pride life. Draco ran after his friend. He had to find a way to explain it all to Potter. Then he was going to have a talk with his father. 

Even a king could learn.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

 

"Father, I would speak with you." Draco said as he entered his father's study with a purposeful stride. Graeme lounged on the rug near one wall, propped partly on a pillow as he read a scroll held over him at arm's length. His dark blue eyes rested on Draco, long lashes shadowing their depths. His eyes asked questions.

"I have sent for my Chosen," Lucius remarked, interrupting his son. He frowned at the boy who was the last one he'd seen with his Chosen. His jaw knotted. "They have not been able to find him. Do you know where his is? Is he well?"

Draco fought back a smirk. It was unlikely the searchers would find Potter. He and Potter had gone to one of the secret rooms that Draco found many years ago. Draco had taken care not to reveal it's location to anyone. Harry was curled up in a heap of furs, probably still weeping as he had been when Draco left to come here and confront his father.

"I am not surprised, not when he saw you with Troy. He does not wish to be found." Draco stated, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared up at his father. Lucius glared back, crossing his own arms over his broad chest.

"What? Why?" Lucius sounded baffled, and a little angry. "Why should he hide from me? Is he afraid? Has he been threatened? I will protect him. Bring him to me. He should not be alone."

"No. Why should I bring him to you, when it is you who have hurt him?" The young man growled. Graeme rolled over onto his belly laying his scroll aside. He rose to his knees, then shifted to one knee and stood. His long hair floated in coppery waves around his bare torso, down past his hips. He flicked it behind him. Out of the way.

 

"I? How have I hurt him?" Lucius was astounded by the accusation. There was no comprehension in his expression. "I have done him no harm."

"No one has taught him what it is to be of the pride. He spends little time with the other young-lings. He doesn't understand what it is to be a kitten, none of you have taught him. I can't, because though I am Mother and belong in one way, I am human. I don't know all there is to teach him." Draco scolded. He moved closer to his father.

"I will see to it that he spends more time with the other young-lings." Lucius said at last. Lifting his chin and staring down at his son. "So that he may learn our ways. Is that what you wish? Now will you tell me where to find him? That I may know he is safe."

"No. Father! You will lose him if you send him away from yourself and back to them! He is not like them. He has never been like any other. Not when he was a child, or in school and not now." Draco snapped. "Don't you understand? You are a king. You know how to see the hearts of your people. Why not the heart of one who loves you to desperation? One who had no idea he would have to see you coupling with others, because no one told him it is our way!"

"How else is he to learn, Draco?" Lucius growled impatiently. "You have just chided me for not having him taught, now you tell me I must not send him to those who can best teach him. What is your pleasure? That I give up what is mine by right?"

"Let him learn from you. You teach him." Draco asked his father, his face sincere. Lucius blinked at him. "Tell him you love him, show him, before you break him. Please!"

"King's do not school kittens." Graeme growled, coming to stand beside and support his king. "No good has come from his being made an exception. He thinks he is above the Laws of the pride because you have given him leave to sleep in your bed. Send him back to the kittens. It is where he belongs."

Lucius sat down on the wide couch. He looked from his son to his third. "Two who I love and value tell me opposite things in how to care for another I care for deeply. Which of you is right?."

Lucius turned to the proud, dark haired, pale skinned, were-leopard who was his third. "You, Graeme, who hold to tradition? Who stand beside me, who is much of my strength. You, who I have loved since you were so much younger than today? Long years you have protected me, kept me from harm and served the pride. Is this the spirit in which you offer your advice today?" 

He held up a hand to stop the quick answer. "No. Think on it, question yourself, truly and honestly, look into yourself, then when I ask for your answer give it to me from the bottom of your heart. Give me the truth, what you think I must do for the best of the pride, myself and the kitten who so troubles you. He is also your ward, he is of your pride, my third. How will you be assured he will prosper under your care?"

"And you." Lucius turned to Draco. "My son. Mother to the heir. Friend, I believe, to my Chosen, the one who lay beside you and held your fear at bay. You tell me. Is your solution best for the pride, for our traditions, for me, and for Harry as well? Are none harmed by the way you would have me act? My Chosen must learn to live among us. He must learn our ways. Or, should our ways be changed? Our traditions abandoned, what has worked for this pride for eons? Because one kitten can not live with our laws as they are? To whom are we being unfair? Think on it my son." He waved at them. 

"Sit. And think. Both of you." Lucius shared an intense look with each of the men. "While you think, I will call my Chosen to me. Unless you will tell me where to find him?" Draco stubbornly shook his head. "Very well. I will use the call. And then we will all talk."


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

 

Harry felt the call. He'd never experienced anything quite like it. It was not what he'd expected when he'd learned that Lucius could call him. 

This was like being caressed with an expert hand, only internally. The sensation, the need to follow the call whispered over him. Over his skin, down his throat, into his belly, around his heart, every organ touched with drowningly deep compulsion. The very cells of his body longed to obey the call. No. Not painful. But, impossible to ignore. Almost impossible to disobey.

Harry was used to pain. That was how Voldemort had called him. With pain and torture, his scar feeling like his head would split open, and the promise of worse if he did not go to him. This was none of that. Harry stood up from his piled furs. The idea of having to go to this one man, the king, his alpha, while he still smarted from seeing him intimately embracing another.... That burned. That was pain.

He toyed with the idea of resistance. Harry had no illusions on that front. He was strong. He could choose not to go. It would tear at him, but he was capable of planting his feet and resisting. The question was, was it worth it? He was tired. He felt empty. Vaguely sad. Numb. Crying did that to him. It created a barrier between himself and his pain. Too bad the numbness always faded and the suffering was waiting when it did. Harry hated that. He would rather flee. Would have done that, made his escape, just few short months ago. Now he chose not to run.

He chose to answer the call.

Harry wiped his stinging eyes with the back of one hand. They were both irritated and still wet with tears stuck to his long, long lashes. He would go, because he had no other choice but to face this. Because, he didn't care if Lucius saw him like this. It was over. He had loved and been used. It was his own fault for believing, for trusting, for not listening. Graeme had been right. Who would have thought that Graeme was the one who was being truthful? And, Harry had refused to listen to him.

 

Lucius was the one who first noticed Harry was in the doorway. He stood and gestured the youth inside. Harry looked at him with a face blanked of expression, a face that came from the deepest pain and grief, drenched in tears, and left to dry. Tight, stretched, and stiff. Lucius frowned when he saw it. He still had no idea of what he'd done to cause the boy such pain as this. Draco said it was his treatment of the boy. Lucius couldn't imagine that.

Draco leaped to his feet and rushed over to Harry. Enfolding him in his arms. Harry looked over the older boy's shoulder, straight into the eyes of the pride king. He rested his chin on Draco's chest, pushing his face into the firm flesh, so only his eyes showed over Draco's shoulder, the lower half of his face hidden. Graeme was next to the desk, his face was curious, more inquiring and less angry than Harry had ever seen it when the older were-leopard looked at him.

"I can't do this." Harry said, flatly, his voice muffled in the shirt he was only just managing not to bite into. "I want to go."

"Go? Go where?" Lucius asked him, sitting once more in the chair behind the desk. Draco led Harry to the couch and sat him there. Tried to take care of him. Harry was distant, the touches were not able to reach him, they were like something happening to someone else.

"Away from here. I don't want to be here." Harry said. His eyes would not release the silver gaze of the man who sat at the desk. He registered it when Graeme moved, but couldn't muster the will to look that direction.

"Why?" Lucius asked, his voice was soft, velvet. His grey eyes weren't icy, weren't cold. They watched, with gentleness, the youth he was speaking to. His Chosen. Harry managed a slight shrug, tried to look away, failed. He couldn't fall into that pit, please, not now.

"I am a laughing stock now. I let myself be used, fucked in public in front of anyone who wanted to look. Now, I have served my purpose, and it is over. You have Troy to take my place. Like I took Fred's. God, I didn't realize what I did to him. I hope he will forgive me someday." Harry's voice was still bland, forced out through his constricted throat, strangely sounding just about normal, but Lucius knew he meant the words.

"Fred is well. He has not been hurt, or harmed by you in any way. His place has not changed. He is still my Marked and my Claimed. Troy has the place he is meant to have, I have Marked him. You have your place. You are my Chosen. The pride is your family. You will remain here, where you will be safe and we can care for you. You have done nothing shameful. We are not humans to hide our passions in locked rooms."

"I am not safe here. I can't live the way you do. I don't want to. I *want* to hide my passion in a locked room. I don't want to see it in front of me, when you take your lovers, how ever many there are. I don't want there to be others." Harry sighed, Draco squeezed his arm, glared at his father. "I only wanted one. I only wanted you. One lover, who was mine, who I didn't have to share, not like that. Be the king of the pride, take care of them, but be *my* lover, faithful, mine. That was all I wanted. I thought I had it. Now I know better."

The silence grew as Lucius considered his words. Lucius spoke, low and gentle to Harry, who was curled miserably on the cushions.

"Come. Sit with me, Chosen. Listen. Graeme and Draco are about to tell me what I should do with you. Both believe that I have failed you, that I have done you disservice. Though each believes it is a different one." Lucius stood and walked over to the couch, taking the cushion next to Harry. 

Harry flinched. Lucius ignored the flinch. He pulled Harry into his arms, guiding him to lay his head on the king's chest, tilting his head back so they looked into each other's eyes. Harry couldn't breathe. His fingers slipped and fumbled for a hold, Twisted in the long, silken pale hair, clutched the thick biceps. The big hands smoothed his hair. Harry wished he could pull away. But the touch...he needed it. The touch of the one who hurt him. He needed it. He clung to the man, no longer so resolute.

The hands were everything. They took his strength, they took his ability to deny how much he craved them. Merlin, he was weak, so spineless. He turned his face into the cradling embrace, fought the losing battle with his dignity and began to cry.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

 

Lucius held him. Long fingers carefully stroking his cheek, temple to chin, thumb following the contours of his lips. Looking deep into his eyes as he cupped his face. Eyes that brimmed with tears. Lucius licked the salty, bitter tears off his fingertips. Lifted his Chosen higher, closer and kissed his wet cheek.

The kisses were not kisses of passion. The kisses were kisses of love. Harry knew it. He felt it. He didn't question it. But, then why had Lucius gone to another? Not hiding it, but out in the open, where all the pride might see his infidelity. He hadn't sneaked. He'd done it as if it didn't matter that he had. Where Harry could witness it. Where it could cut his heart out.

Harry clung to the king. He sobbed. This was not fair. No matter how strong he was, he was not stronger than his heart's need for love. Under Lucius' touch he was helpless. His body screamed for Lucius. His body was willing to endure all to keep him. His heart crumbled.

"Harry." A whisper, soft and tender sound, then lips ghosted over his face. To his own mouth, all twisted with pain. Kissed him.

"Please let me go." He begged, while clinging harder, ensuring that Lucius could not set him free. "Why am I not enough?"

"You are enough, Harry." Lucius told him. Not loosening the hold he had. "You are loved and wanted and needed here."

"But, why do you want them? If I am enough?" Harry demanded. Anguished. "If I am enough, then get rid of them!"

"I am king. They are mine, to love and care for. As I love and care for my son, you, Graeme, Amrys, the unborn heir. Each of you. Some I take to my furs, others I do not. My life belongs to the pride. And the pride gives me what I need." Lucius said after a minute. He tightened his hold around the shaking boy.

"Be their king. But be my lover. Please." Harry pleaded. "Why are you casting me aside? I gave you everything. I let you..." He couldn't say it. Not out loud. Not now. But he thought it,...Lucius, he was my first. I did for him what I never even thought of doing for another man.

"I am your lover." Lucius' rich voice offered him soothing words. "You have my heart."

"I saw you! I saw you with Troy! How can you be my lover and make love to him?" Harry groaned.

"He is one of my kittens. He is mine to take and to care for. He is mine to take pleasure with. He is not my lover. You, I have taken to my bed. Haven't you heard? I have accepted you where none of my ancestors have taken their kittens or their lovers. I am the only one in our history who has taken a kitten and allowed that kitten to tell all who will listen that I am his lover."

"I saw you." Harry cried out. He pounded at Lucius' chest. "I saw. I saw!"

"Have you heard nothing I said?" Lucius asked sadly. He smoothed the damp tendrils of dark hair back off Harry's face.

"They are words, just..." Harry insisted. Lucius put a finger over his mouth stopping the flow of accusations.

"Stop. Foolish boy. Do you think I say these same words to every one? Do I call everyone my lover? Who else have I brought to my bed? How often have I cast you out so I can bring others into my furs? Never have I done that to you." Lucius said with a growl.

"I don't want to share my lover! If I can't be the only one, then let me go!"

Lucius drew back. Harry dug his fingers into the big man's arms, holding with desperate strength. Preventing Lucius from getting free of him. The man made no real effort. He sat, calmly, sadly. Looking down at the wretched youth in his arms. Wondering how things had come to this.

The silence stretched.

"He has told you, you are first. And all you can ask is why you are not the only." Graeme was the one who broke the silence. "You take the honor he has given you and throw it back in his face. We are not humans! Our king is not some Muggle to be coerced with sex and threats into denying his needs, denying the pride and the needs of the pride. Yet, you ask it of him as if it is nothing. You ask him to become human, to abandon our laws, our way of life."

Graeme slowed, shook his head, took a steadying breath. Then started up again. He fixed Harry with his large, dark, expressive eyes. Lucius' palm cradled Harry's cheek.

"You disagree. Therefore our laws are worthless. We should discard them. You came to us. You were changed. You belong to the pride. *We* do not belong to the world you left when you came here. There are traditions passed down, ways of doing things among us. I tried to tell you. I tried to show you your place. I tried to take care of a kitten who was wandering lost. Who refused direction. And you did not listen. You defied me. The pride's third. Defied by a mere kitten."

Graeme sneered, stopped, gathered himself, before resuming. His face blazed.

"My king asked me to think long on the words I would say. He told me not to speak with rash anger. He told me to speak wise counsel, not heated words. He reminded me that you are mine to care for, that you are mine to love as a member of my pride. Your well-being is my responsibility. It is my place to encourage you, teach you, as well as punish you. I can not do just one of those things, if I do only one, then I have failed you, I have failed the entire pride."

"So, listen to what I have to say to you. Know I have considered these words, and that they are from my heart to you." The tall, elegant were-leopard said as he came to stand in front of the kitten held in his king's arms....


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

 

"I see his love for you." Graeme began, tenor voice clipped, sharp enough to wound. He drew himself up, tall and proud, looking down on Harry with a gaze so intense it was nearly a threat. Harry fought the impulse to shrink back, to try to hide deeper in Lucius' embrace. He also felt the defensive instinct rising, the compulsion to strike out, to defend himself. He felt his magic drawing up. 

"You don't...." Harry began, seething, his teeth clenched. Lucius slid his hand over Harry's forehead, up into his hair. Brushed his cheek over the boy's. He spoke to him.

"Listen. Hear the words as well as their tone. Do not let the tone make you strike out." The king murmured softly, his breath eddying over Harry's cheek. Harry swallowed. His throat suddenly burning and tight. Robbing him of his rage, of the drive to strike out, left him with only his fear and his hurt. He was, once more, on the verge of tears. Lucius rocked him. Graeme raised his chin, his full lips pressed thin.

"I know my king loves hard. He does not change his feelings like some with the changes of the seasons. His love is enduring. I fear for him, loving you. I fear you will destroy him, destroy what he is. He is a great king. He is what the pride needs. He upholds our ways, he gives each of us strength and good counsel. His spirit sustains us through darkness and times of trouble."

Graeme paused looking over at Lucius. They shared a charged glance, telling. The air seemed to still with the power of both their magics. Graeme squared his shoulders as if preparing himself for a difficult task. He took in a full breath and turned to begin pacing over the stone floor.

"We have failed you in some things, Potter. You don't know about pride structure and how we do things, or even why. We never taught you. Your change was not a planned change. No one went to you and told you what to expect. No one mentored you. Blaise looked out for you for a time, but you left him behind. No one took action to fix that. There is a reason for kittens staying close. The kittens are there for each other, for friendship and because it is necessary. They answer questions, tend to each other." Graeme shook his head. Pacing along the center of the room, warming to his speech. His wide shoulders bunched. He whirled around staring at Harry.

"You though, you were different. In how you became one of us. In who you were before you came to us. Draco has impressed upon us that this is of great importance. That you are not indulging in adolescent grandeur, that you truly are different. I don't know how much truth is in his assessment. But, I have heard his words and I do not dismiss them." Graeme said. He was in front of Harry and Lucius. Examining Harry's face as if looking for the difference Draco said was there.

"Our king met you before the rest of us took you in. He touched you, he held you. Taking the role your fellow kittens should have had. His two choices that day were to take you in, or to kill you." Graeme seemed to hesitate, as if deciding whether or not to say a certain something. He finally quirked his lip and plunged on, and Harry felt he'd skipped a part of what he'd meant to say. Graeme held out one long, muscular arm, waving it, as if washing something away. 

"Somehow he bonded to you. In moments. Not in the slowness of time, where such bonding can be guided and nurtured. He took you and Marked you. Too fast. You didn't understand what it meant to be his Marked. Then, before that settled on you, you were his Claimed. No one else could lay with you and teach you how the pride shares sex. Because he made you his so quickly. It was not a wise thing to do. A kitten should never have only one lover." Dark blue eyes met pale grey, held. Lucius raised no objection to the statement. 

Harry scowled. It wasn't as if he'd wanted to be changed, or wanted to be taken that first time. He had not. The choice was taken from him. Now Graeme was outlining his own grievances, almost in the same words he'd have used. Making Harry feel it was his fault.

"I would have taken you, kitten. Others of the pride. Showed you, as we showed Ron and the other kittens. There should have been many of us to show you the way...lovingly, gradually. To show you that we are not like the repressive humans you are used to living among. That we cared for you, unlike the humans." Now Harry felt their feelings on this diverged. He snuggled harder into the arms that held him, drawing in a shaking breath, burrowing his face into the fresh scented, silky skin. Lucius stroked his hair. Harry wasn't greedy, he wanted one lover. Not a dozen. But, Graeme went on, voice more introspective.

"Then, almost at once, he called you Chosen. His first Chosen during his rule. And you had no idea what it meant to be Chosen. You had no idea of the power he gave you, power within the pride, power over himself. You are his choice. His help, his heart's safety. You can reach him when others aren't permitted close. There is a reason why kittens are not usually called Chosen. It is no easy position to hold." The older were-leopard was momentarily silent. Draco made a sound of protest, as if to say something in rebuttal, but Graeme looked at him and he went still.

"There is great responsibility held by the Chosen, it is not a position for a child, no matter how extraordinary." Graeme conceded that point, that Harry was different, to Draco, seeing how the youth was impatient to make understood. "I am not surprised you don't realize just what place you hold. I am both angry and alarmed that it is forced on you. The connection is not always voluntary. It can be forged in an instant and even a strong man can not resist it. Once done, it is hard to undo. I fear what you will do to him. I fear that when he reaches out, and needs you, you will punish him for an imagined slight and deny him. And in so doing make the entire pride pay. I think you are not ready for what he gives you."

Harry turned away from the intense gaze, his face was flushed. It was as if Graeme was asking him if he was responsible and mature enough to accept the truth of what he was saying. Harry knew that he was angry, that he wanted to lash out and make demands. He wanted to fight for his right not to be used, not to be hurt. Graeme was telling him, if he understood it correctly, that this was not about him. That his own needs and desires were not in consideration, that they were the smallest part of any of it. That the position Harry thought he had, as Lucius' lover was far more. 

Once again, Harry's life couldn't be easy, couldn't be simple. He fought with the urge to sulk, to cry out his wants and insist on them being met, or threatening to run. Why shouldn't he ask for his need to come first, just this one time, in this one thing? He battled not to fall back into his tried and true patterns, the ones that had worked before. There had been too much change. It hurt. where was his security? The benefit to him? Why did he have to give up what he needed, again? It wasn't too much to ask for. A lover who was faithful.

Draco couldn't stand it for another moment. He stood and walked over to Graeme.

"You have been pride for a long time. You were raised by parents who were of the pride. It is what you know. Harry, until he was brought here, had no idea we even existed. It is as hard for him to understand you as it is for you to understand him."

Harry had also sat up. "I never asked to be a silly lycanthrope!" He snapped.

"This is what I mean." Graeme said. "You are not ready to be the Chosen. What is done is done. You are one of us. That can't be changed. So, to bring it up is pointless."

Harry growled, surging to his feet. "It damn well is not pointless!" He shouted, his voice choked, tears streaming down his face. "I am so tired of people telling me "that's the way it is". I won't accept that any more!"

Graeme lowered his head, shaking it. He sighed. Looked over at Lucius who was sitting very still, looking at his right hand, held tightly by his Chosen. Harry didn't even seem aware that they were still holding hands as he stood next to the couch bristling with his rage. Confronting the pride's third.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

 

Graeme was on Harry, one instant standing a dozen feet away, the next his hand was hard around Harry's throat. Lifting him and tossing him back on top of Lucius and the couch, as if he was a leaf floating to the ground. Lucius caught him, cradling him into a safe landing.

Draco let out a cry of distress, starting forward. Graeme turned on him, holding up one finger tipped by a threatening claw. Draco took a step back and unwillingly went to the floor, crouching there. Graeme glaring hard, warningly, then turning and stalking towards the flabbergasted Harry, who lay stunned, his chest heaving. Lucius held him again, arms winding around him, warm beneath him, steadying hands. Safe.

"You are kitten." Graeme said as he leaned down, hissing softly. Harry felt his body turn to jelly at the hiss, his heart thumping painfully hard. He expected to feel fear and it was there, far in the background, but he was overcome far more strongly by something quite different. 

It started the instant Graeme's hand fastened on his throat. It grew when the man threw him and now as he is leaning over him, the lassitude spread, Harry wanted to have Graeme looming over him. Just like he was. Harry wanted to surrender. To refuse to fight. To submit to another's will. Harry was left gasping, unable to defend himself. His body would't obey the urgent pleas to fight back. His body wanted something completely different.

"Do not seek to insult me. Do not seek to defy me." Graeme padded closer, throwing a leg over the sprawled youth, bearing him into the cushions and down on top of Lucius. The hard, round globes of his butt pressing down on Harry's thighs. Harry stayed unmoving, letting out a mewl. Lucius let out a growl and Harry echoed it, only coming from him the sound is more plaintive, a begging, hopeful sound. Graeme smiles when the sound reached his ear. His hand floating over Harry, exploring, searching, claiming him in a way.

"You rail at me, that I am in error. Let me enlighten you. Listen to what your body is telling you." The voice he uses next is soft and whispery, Graeme's hand has ceases its wandering, fastened onto Harry's chin, squeezing just a bit. 

"You are kitten. I am third. I have been where you are now. You have not been where I am. I too, had to learn to obey. Now it is what you must learn." His face grows closer and closer, his magnificent eyes locked on to Harry's. His lips peeled back, revealing full fangs. Harry let out a squeak. His bones turning to water. Lucius' touch runs soothingly up his sides.

"You cannot walk before you crawl, kitten. And no one has taught you to crawl. I will teach you to crawl, to walk, then to run." Harry tried to lean away, but his body wouldn't obey him. His muscles were lax, he felt Lucius shift underneath him to better support his and Graeme's weight. 

And that small motion was incredible. Now all Harry's focus was on being between the men. His beloved behind him. Graeme in front. Hard and loving behind. Hard and controlling, demanding in front. Lucius' grip is careful, tender, still protective, but not stopping Graeme or hindering him. Harry wants to be held, just like this. He starts straining, wanting more contact. Graeme growls deep and rumbling in his broad chest. Harry melts. Oh God. Graeme is leaning in. He can't....

Lucius' hand leaves Harry's waist, moving up and onto Graeme's arm, lean fingers wrapping snug around the wrist of the third, not tight, not inhibiting. Just there. Holding Graeme while Graeme holds Harry's face. Graeme's eyes flicker with flashes of dark light. He lifts his face, gazing over the young-ling's shoulder up into his king's eyes.

Harry watches as Graeme's lips part, as he senses the were-leopard's breath coming faster, deeper, harder. As the big man rises, moving up, towards Lucius, body so close to Harry's that they brushed the whole way up, silky soft skin of bare abdomen and chest all over his own torso. The hand holding his chin shifts position, fingers sinking into his messy, raven hair, nails running sharp and intense, over his scalp, tightening every nerve in his body, raising gooseflesh from head to toe. 

Harry's moan momentarily stops Graeme's upward motion. The older leopard looks down, re-focusing on the young man's face, the dilated pupils, the flushed cheeks. Graeme pauses, a hungry look filling his eyes. Harry mewls again. Begging. Even he has to admit that was what the sound was about. Need. Urgent. Asking. Begging.

Harry, confused and panting. What is he doing? He doesn't understand.

"You are asking for favor from a more dominant leopard." Lucius says to him. "It is instinct. You can not fight it. And you shouldn't. It is natural. Not something to fear."

"I..." Harry began. 

"No. Don't be afraid." Graeme whispered, laying heavy and warm on top of Harry, his body a shield against harm. "This feeling, is what you are supposed to have. We all have it at one time or other."

"He is right. Let it take you. Feel it. I am here. Graeme is here. You are safe." Lucius told him. 

Harry sighed. He felt.... 

Warm. 

Safe. 

Good. 

"Harry?" Draco was next to the couch, kneeling down, slender fingers grasping his shirt. "Harry? Are you all right?"

Harry lifted dazed eyes to his blond friend's face. To the troubled gaze, the anxious expression. Harry considered the question for a moment. He discovered the unexpected answer.

"Yes. I am alright." He said. "I'm good." And, strangely, it was true.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

 

"No." Harry said. He glared up at the tall night-watcher. Yaji returned the scowl. "I know Graeme wants me to understand what the pride is like, but I never agreed to this."

"This? What is this?" Yaji asked. His short brown hair was ruffled, curling around his face and the nape of his neck. Dark eyes regarded the shorter young man mildly. Harry could hardly credit this was the man he'd fought with during his first change. There was no sign of anger. He was big and masculine and handsome enough in a rough way. But Harry wasn't going to have sex with him. No matter how much Graeme argued that he needed to.

"This...I won't have sex with you." Harry said firmly, waving his hand in the air between them. Yaji's eyebrows rose sharply towards his hairline. "And if you are going to make me pay for clawing you up, tell me now."

"You are the Chosen, of course we won't have sex. And I will not harm you for fighting during your change." The big man was scandalized. "Why would you think such a thing?"

"Uh." Now Harry flushed. OK. So it seemed he was jumping to conclusions. But he wasn't naive enough to totally let his guard down. After all it was Yaji who had just entered the room and announced Graeme had sent him to teach Harry. And as far as Harry was concerned, whatever else Graeme was, he still was a sex maniac. "So if it isn't sex...then what?"

"I am here to accustom you to being touched." Yaji replied, as if that statement was perfectly natural. Harry was still wary. Not at all sure he wanted to be touched. He didn't know much about Yaji, aside from the fact Draco was close to the man.

"Touched? How touched?" Because there were a lot of ways to touch and not all of them were OK with Harry. Some of them were definitely not going to happen.

"I am to hold you." Yaji looked impatient, staring down at the much slighter young man.

"Why?" Harry challenged the man. Who looked down on him as if he was utterly mad. Of course, because the third had sent him to do it. Harry scowled and relented. "Oh all right. *If* you answer my questions I will sit with you. Deal? And no touching down here. No grabbing or fondling. My butt or...." Harry gestured vaguely at his crotch.

"Deal. I would never presume without the permission of the king." Harry might have been mistaken, but he thought the corner of the man's mouth twitched. And the guardian were-leopard picked him up, startling him. Harry let out a squeak of protest as he was settled on the man's lap, as Yaji seated himself on the pile of furs.

"Hey!" Harry had thought he'd sit *next* to the man, at least that was his plan. Maybe put up with an arm around his shoulders. Not, apparently, the man's plan. Yaji held him comfortably. Nothing sexual in the embrace, thank Merlin. It wasn't all that bad. Grumpily, Harry decided he should just tough it out. He let out a cautious breath.

"Alright. You are holding me. I get to ask my questions. Now, tell me about the Rule Room." Quiz and answer would keep his mind off the touching. How the thick thighs felt under his bottom. The warm male scent, a bit spicy. Pleasant really. 

"The Rule Room? What is that?" Yaji asked, running a hand up and down Harry's arm. Harry jumped but put up with it. Biting his lip. He sincerely wanted to know about the room and he had other inquires he'd enjoy having answered.

"You know, the stone room, the one with the rules...the laws on the walls. On the first floor. Towards the west wing." Harry clarified, watching the expressive face show in succession, confusion, surprise, then acute interest.

"The Temple? How do you know of the Temple?" Yaji asked.

"I found it." Harry had no hesitation lying to protect Draco.

"But...only the Seers and the ruling three can enter the Temple. Its magic protects it from invasion." Yaji said. His hands, after stopping for a minute, were back to petting, stroking up and down Harry's back. One hand massaged his calf and that was very, very good. Harry spread his toes, wriggling them. Uhm. 'Lip biting to stop a moan', kind of good.

"I...I just walked in." Harry left out the fact that Draco had gone in with him. If he was going to get in trouble for it, so be it, but he wasn't going to drag Draco along. "I didn't have any problems getting in." 

Yaji's arm was supporting his back, he felt the flex of thick muscle. So, this touching thing wasn't too bad. It was sort of nice.

"We will not speak of the Temple. If you need answers about the temple, Kaithas may help you. Do you have other questions?" Yaji was firm, unyielding in his refusal to talk about the Temple. Harry considered his options and decided to move on.

"Hmmm. Fine." Harry growled under his breath. Then raised his voice. "Tell me about Lucius."

"Our king?"

"Yes."

"What would you like to know?"

"How long has he been king?"

"For ten years prior to Draco's birth. He was wed to Narcissa, but it took many years before Draco was conceived and born. She could not carry the first four children to term. Her family is resistant to lycanthropy. Her body rejected the children who would have been capable of becoming lycanthropes if they had been born. The king was greatly saddened when he found out the reason for the loss of his children years later."

"Wow. Poor Lucius. And poor Narcissa." Harry could only imagine what it would be like to have life growing inside of you, then lose it. Four times. Heartbreaking.

Yaji's lip curled in a snarl. "She brought the pain on herself, with her deception. And on the king."

"God. I hope Draco doesn't have any problems." Harry felt the man holding him stiffen. It would be bad to think of Draco going through what his mother had. 

"Kaithas believes all will be well. He has consulted the wizard of Potions at the School. Doctor Snape." Yaji stated firmly.

"Professor Snape? He knows Draco is pregnant?" It made sense. Snape was close to the Malfoy family. Draco needed potions to aid his pregnancy. As uncomfortable as the Potions Master made him, Harry acknowledged the man's consummate skill.

"Yes. He has visited the Manor often."

"Draco is fine." Harry stated, because he couldn't ask the question and risk being told something different. "And when the heir is born he will be the Mother. And Amrys the Sire."

"That is correct." 

"Will they marry?" Harry prompted. "Is it usual for the sire to marry the Mother?" He knew Andromeda hadn't. But she was way abnormal in Harry's mind. He didn't use her to measure any normal behavior in the pride.

"The Mother and the Sire? No. It is not necessary. Amrys would if it was required. But, Draco I think, would decline." The guardian said, with a tone of confidence.

"I think you are right." Harry said. And he remembered all the things he heard about this large guardian and Mantheer protecting Draco. The feelings they had for each other were deep. Abiding. Perhaps they loved Draco? Romantically? A thought to keep in mind.

"Would Draco marry you?" Harry asked bluntly. 

He liked the scent of this man. He could see Draco falling for him, if Draco got tired of girls. He smelled warm and good and more than a little sexy. 'Harry', he thought to himself, 'you are turning into a real slut.'


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

 

Sybil picked up the frail luminescent vial and rolled it in her hands, warming the thick liquid inside. It was the blood concentrate she had made from the blood soaked towel. It was strong, enhanced with all the magic she could generate and only a few drops would yield enough for her polyjuice potion. 

She turned to eye the sleeping woman stretched out on her bed. Long and round limbed, sensuously feminine and exuding a strong sexual allure, something Sybil, while not being precisely unattractive, had never had. Blatant sex appeal. Adding this woman's blood to the potion was a good idea. One of her best lately. She allowed herself a hideous smile. Fondling the vial as she contemplated the next part of her new plan.

The blood from the woman, Andromeda, would serve to further concentrate the potion and there would be enough to change the two of them. Sybil would have a companion in her search for more prey. And for Draco. That sniveling brat had been the reason her initial plans had failed so badly. He had to pay for that. Andromeda, being of the Malfoy family, could give her access Sybil herself didn't have a hope of getting. She smiled again. This would work out for the better, perhaps.

Trelawny patiently titrated a fraction of the concentrate into her gently bubbling cauldron. She stirred the mixture mentally counting the the time off, careful to keep the motions smooth and even, at the proper speed, so as not to froth the mixture. She had done this so many times, it had become almost second nature to her, she knew the instant it was time to add Andromeda's contribution. 

Drop by drop she added the fresh blood. Inhaling the resulting potion after each minute addition, until it brimmed with the scent of perfection. The potion was perfect, yes, and exquisite, the scent without flaw, she sniffed, grinned. The curl of steam rising from the finished brew was heady. Sybil inhaled it deep into her lungs as she dipped into the mass in the bottom of the cauldron and divided it into two portions. She drank her own as she walked from the cauldron to Andromeda. A hard swallow and it was down, working it's anticipated magic.

A quick incantation and Andromeda was awake and compelled to drink from the glass Sybil held, two quick gulps for her, one gagging moment, then it was down, with Andromeda collapsed back onto the bed, retching. A moment later she started to convulse as Professor Trelawny, in the midst of her own transformation, watched with satisfaction. What a truly fantastic physique, larger than before, sleeker, more agile. Ah, it was perfect, so perfect.

 

The kittens were outdoors, all in were-leopard form, cavorting in the tall grass, chasing each other and taking advantage of a chance to run full out. Harry, at first embarrassed by the idea of running around and playing like a little kid, was completely drawn into the games after a few minutes. 

Between the kittens and the woods Yaji, Mantheer and other guardians roamed to prevent any secret approach or attack on the kittens. 

Dumbledore had reluctantly sent word of another attack on the campus of Hogwarts. Fatal, as were all except the one on Harry. The Ministry of Magic sent aurors to watch the grounds, but came up with nothing substantial so far. Their presence at least seemed to have stopped any further attacks. The one bit of news sent was one Lucius had puzzled out for himself long ago. The creature was not natural, it was an abomination of dark magic.

There were no sightings of the attacker, no witnesses, the locale of the crime itself was so torn up that there was little information to be gleaned from it. Dumbledore himself had gone to the area and scanned it magically, without result. They had no way of tracking it. The frenzy was even more brutal and catastrophic than it had been before. The victim had to be identified by means of magic, because a visual determination had been impossible.

Lucius had made it clear none of the kittens were returning to Hogwarts at this time. Grumbling, Dumbledore had at last agreed that the precautions were wise and that they were apparently still necessary.

So, none of the kittens were allowed outside without escort. All pride members were told to travel in pairs or better yet in groups until the assailant was found.

The kittens had for the most part behaved well, now they were outside to work off some of the energy that had been bottled up by their forced enclosure in the Manor. Lucius had finally agreed to the furlough when he'd come across the kittens holding races in the basement halls. They'd run into him, tumbling with him to the ground and rolling in a heap down the hall. 

The kittens involved, Troy, Fred and George Weasley had been mortified over having knocked their alpha on his butt, but Lucius had just laughed and told them he'd send them outside with the guardians before they broke his, or someone else's neck.

Now they were playing, even Harry. Lucius, looking down from his window saw the twitching behind of his chosen, topped by a long tail fairly quivering with delight, as he dashed around in circles. A remarkably tantalizing sight. He contemplated the joy of putting his hands on those delectable flanks later.

Lucius thought that he himself could use a good run. He was debating the advisability of it when he saw a flash of light in the middle of the group of kittens, an instant before he felt the apparating spell. It was not possible! The wards should have prevented every one from entering or exiting without permission.

"Oh, shit. God cursed, shit." He growled out, rage filling him, gaining his feet and thrusting the window open. He leaped out of the third floor window, changing in midair and hit the ground running flat out. 

Two beasts were in the midst of his kittens, reaching out with clawed hands. The kittens scattered taking off for the house and away from the horrors grabbing for them. All except Draco who was human and could not change, he wasn't fast enough and the monsters were closing on him.

Then Harry turned and looked back, saw Draco and the guardians making for his friend, They were too far away. He was not. Harry whirled and rushed back to Draco's defense. His move alerted the other kittens, had them all turning as one and following. Lucius didn't know whether to applaud their bravery, or scream at them for being foolhardy. He lowered his head and put on an extra burst of speed.

Lucius heard the thud as Potter landed on the back of one of the monsters, unbalancing it enough to stop the swat aimed at Draco. The massive clawed paw on Draco flashed up and over head, drawing back for a probably fatal blow. Less than a second later there were two more thuds as Yaji and Mantheer arrived, snarling and fighting ferociously. The other guardians were heading the remaining kittens off, herding them away from the fracas as Lucius hit the growling snarling group around his son.

Draco was on the ground, face up, scrambling to put distance between himself and the slashing claws trying to hold onto him. Lucius had the impression of mismatched features, long silvery blond hair, the exact color of his own,...or that of his sister. And magnificent breasts that he'd only seen on one woman before, now they graced both monsters. In a flash he knew one of these deformed creatures was his sister. Horribly changed, but it was Andromeda. Only...both creatures looked exactly the same, smelled horribly the same, long, shiny hair flying around their naked bodies, the stench rising like a choking miasma, as he tore into them, blood and flesh flying in hard, little greasy gobbets.

Mantheer and Yaji were like men possessed, battling the hulking creatures, taller even than the towering Mantheer, tearing out great chunks. Lucius heard the long, howling cry of his second just before Amrys smashed into the group. One of the creatures gasped, letting out a garbled snarl and once more light flashed and the two monsters were gone. Leaving behind their stink and bloody bits littering the trampled grasses.

Draco was curled on the ground, gashes sliced through his clothing and into his flesh, Mantheer and Yaji crouched threateningly over him, growling. Baring teeth at anyone who moved. 

Lucius transformed to human and strode to them. He went to his knees turning Draco gently to examine him. His thighs were clawed deeply. His chest less so, it was apparent from the injuries the attack had been directed at his belly, which he'd managed to protect. At his belly, and perhaps, probably at the unborn heir. Lucius was positive now, that one of the beasts had to be Andromeda, the attack on Draco and the child he was carrying was proof.

Gently, Mantheer lifted Draco, the boy moaned in pain. He had to be seen to quickly, the bleeding stopped, the Potions Master, Snape sent for to check on the wellbeing of the heir.

Lucius grabbed Harry by the scruff, swung him up in his arms. Enough time later to impress upon him the wonderful foolishness of his heroic act, which had likely saved Draco's life.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

 

Mantheer carried Draco into the bathing pool, soaking his clothing, ignoring the others milling around him. He had eyes only for the moaning young man he held so carefully. Yaji splashed in with him, anxiously supporting them both. They began tenderly trying to assess the injuries Draco had received. His face was paler even than usual and he was biting his lip with pain. Harry made a sound as he watched, he strained to go after Draco, but Lucius held him back.

"They will care for him, Harry. Let them do their work. They already suffer for not being able to protect him. They need to care for him, to reconnect." Lucius murmured. His mind was distracted, continuing to fume over how Andromeda and whoever she was with managed to get into the grounds, and to attack Draco. As part of the family of Malfoy, Andromeda was nearly impossible to keep out with the Manor's wards. But, something had to be arranged. Or the monster would have free rein out on the grounds and someone undeserving would die.

Lucius and Harry both turned as Kaithas burst into the room, joining the group of concerned lycanthropes filling the room. Lucius hugged the trembling form of his Chosen to him. Harry had saved Draco worse injury, but Draco would be a long time healing. He was not lycanthrope and he was unable to use the change to heal himself.

Lucius saw Tanith enter the room slowly her great, worried eyes roaming until she found Draco. When his son had been a child, there had been none closer to him that the female Seer. She had been a second mother to the boy. Then with the fiasco of his inability to turn, they had drifted apart. Things had begun to swing back to a growing closeness with the pending delivery of the heir.

Tanith had accepted the news of Draco's pregnancy with surprise and then true satisfaction. She was still cautious, the male pride members lacked the ability of wizards to carry children within their own bodies. Even wizards had no easy time of it. She had spent a long evening at Hogwarts accompanying Kaithas, while both Seers consulted with the Potions master, Severus Snape. He had given her increasing confidence, but she still waited. She waited to be sure the child would be delivered alive before she celebrated too openly. She waited to discover if the child would be able to turn into lycanthrope. When that came to pass, she would roar her glee to the skies.

Kaithas immediately hustled most of the worried men and women out, offering comforting words and assurances he didn't fully believe yet, then stripped to join Mantheer, Draco and Yaji in the water. He forced himself to move calmly, a thing made all the more difficult by the blood floating like a cloud in the heated water and the sharp noxious scent in the air. Mantheer looked at him with eyes haunted and full of pain, pain as deep as that which Draco felt. Yaji only continued in his ministrations, ignoring the Seer.

The two guardians were very gently peeling the wet, soiled clothing off Draco, the water preventing the blood from sticking to the wounds, and also washing away the foulness of the creatures that had wounded him. Draco lay back and let them, though he did let out a barely audible whimper when Yaji cleaned one of the worst wounds on his leg.

Kaithas saw quickly that no wounds were on the youth's abdomen and he whispered a prayer of thanks. The child had a chance. He laid his hands on Draco and began to scan him seeking knowledge of how seriously he was hurt and what could be done to heal him.

A pop sounded, the sound of someone apparating into the room. Every head snapped around and Amrys flew towards the materializing figure, morphing as he went into full fighting leopard form. Lucius was on his heels, thrusting Harry into Tanith's arms. Harry eluded the female Seer and sprang after his king and the second, a shiny coated raven colored were-leopard, fur standing on end.

The apparating person was confronted with three furious were-leopards in full attack mode. He was saved from serious harm only at the very last second when Amrys and Lucius realized who it was, changing back to human form, Amrys managed to catch Harry in mid-leap. Harry was snarling with fury and raking his claws through the air, trying to get at the potential threat. Lucius whisked the man behind him, protecting him from Harry, should the boy win free.

Charlie Weasley stood gaping, peering around Lucius Malfoy at the wildly struggling kitten held in the second's tight grasp.

"Merlin!" He exclaimed. "What is going on here? I thought I was called home to help, not to be shredded on sight!" The kitten, for all its relative youth, had some long, and sharp claws. Very adult claws.

He frowned looking closer. "And just who is that? If I may be so bold as to ask. I don't recognize him." 

Lucius relaxed as Harry began to calm. He stepped forward, taking Harry into his arms, letting Amrys lick at the shallow scratches on his own forearms. Harry turned hard, fiery, green eyes towards the red haired figure. He growled, but not threateningly, more in exasperation, in a greeting sort of, though an irritated one. As if he was scolding Charlie, for not being more careful. 

Charlie's gingery brows shot up his forehead. Not at all kittenish, this one! "He's a bit full of himself now! Specially for a kitten! This part of the reason you brought me home, my king?"

Lucius nuzzled the furry leopard in his arms. "Yes. Part of the reason. He is calmed. Come, greet your king and his Chosen as is correct, Charlie Weasley."

"You have taken a Chosen!" Charlie exclaimed, stepping forward, offering his neck to Lucius. Lucius set his gentle teeth at the bared throat, then when Charlie made no resistance, he licked over the almost bite, soothing the pinkened skin. Charlie startled when a second tongue lapped at his cheek sloppily. It reminded him of....

"Harry Potter! Is that you?" Charlie asked with a delighted grin on his face. The kitten mewled.

"He has some trouble occasionally turning back to human form." Lucius explained as Charlie stroked the dark furred were-leopard and was rewarded with a rumbling, ecstatic purr.

"Ah. He is beautiful." Charlie said, low, and sincere. The kitten hissed, lazily, not really a warning sound. The red-haired man laughed. "Well you are!"

For the third time that day the sound of an apparating wizard disrupted the pride. The tall, red haired form of Bill Weasley materialized with a snap. He looked around the room, saw the anxious faces and the newly fighting kitten, straining to get at him, claws fully extended, teeth bared. He took a hasty step backwards, thanking the gods he hadn't materialized any closer. He twitched the edge of his cloak out of the grabbing claws.

"Not the welcome I expected. I thought I was invited back! What's going on?" Bill asked, eyes flicking from the struggling kitten to the commotion in the bathing pool.

Before he could get an answer another pop sounded and Harry flailed madly, hissing and snarling, as yet another firgure came into view. Tall and dark and stern. Obsidian eyes looked the room over rapidly, assessingly, missing nothing. Then headed toward the water. 

"Mr Potter," Severus Snape snapped, disapprovingly as he passed. "Do control yourself."


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

 

Yaji lifted Draco onto the bed, settling him on top of the furs, wrapped head to foot in thick, absorbent towels. He was only just keeping himself from shaking as he cradled Draco. Mantheer was right behind him, circling around, watching for any potential harm. He was well aware of the new threat posed by Andromeda and the pride's inability to keep her from the Manor. It was hoped that Bill could devise a specific ward to keep her away, as he was a well known curse-breaker which was intricate work. Until then, Draco would have two, very attentive body guards. 

Mantheer let the tall, dark haired Potion's Master begin his examination, but hovered near, almost on top of the other man, so close their clothing brushed. The Wizard smelled of herbs, smoke and crushed insects. And a tiny bit of something dark and sweet, maybe chocolate?

Snape peeled back the towels with care. After sending a quelling glare at the brown haired, tanned, hulking man who snarled at him as he neared. Severus eyed the wounds critically. Some were fairly deep, but all seemed clean now after the prolonged soak in the bathing pool. The lycanthropes had been admirably thorough in their attentions, he had to grudgingly admit. He'd rarely seen a better job done by a medi-witch or wizard, most didn't have the patience for it.

"Stand back, if you please. I can feel you breathing down my neck. *Literally*. It is absolutely impossible to work with you hanging over me." The black eyes glittered, showing no fear of the towering guardian were-leopard. Mantheer took a step back, then solved his dilemma by walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting next to Draco. From that vantage he could reach out and slap the wizard out of range if he offered the slightest harm to Draco.

Every gasp of pain resulted in Mantheer's lips peeling back from his teeth, showing elongating fangs. Draco reached out and fastened his hand around Mantheer's thick wrist. Mantheer leaned down immediately, rubbing his cheek over Draco's forehead and hair. He kept up a calming rumble, a deep purr, occasionally lifting his head to show fangs in case the wizard might forget to be careful with his very precious patient.

The young blond man reached out his other hand and tried to soothe Yaji. Yaji kept up a low constant growl one that grew audibly louder when the boy was hurt. Severus Snape rolled his eyes, pursed his lips tightly together and studiously set about ignoring the two histrionic men. He turned and located Lucius, who was standing close by.

"There is no problem with his pregnancy, Malfoy. I will distill a preparation for pain and one to fight infection, both will be safe for the child. He should rest in bed for one or two days, with supervision, you know how boys are when you give them instructions. They disregard them if at all possible. Then, in two days, he should be allowed up, also with supervision. Any signs of infection, or weakened condition and I must be notified immediately. Now. Who will be changing the dressings?" 

Kaithas forestalled Yaji, who had opened his mouth to reply. "Show me Potion's Master, I will instruct the others if necessary." He was well aware he was not going to be able to pry the two big were-cats away from Draco's side.

Bill Weasley was standing next to his brother, Charlie and Lucius. Harry was sitting on the floor, still in were-form. Lucius rested a big hand on his head, slowly moving his fingers behind the large triangular ears. Harry stretched his neck, tilting his head back and purring, pressing his head against Lucius' side, his mouth open just enough to show his teeth and lolling tongue. 

"I will get to work on a blocking spell, my king. The wounds while serious, don't look as grievous as I thought at first. But, knowing the bitch, she will be back for more." Bill said in an undertone. "She will not stop until she wins what she believes in her due."

"She must be kept from the pride's home. Or we must pursue her away from here and kill her. I have been too lenient for too long. I will not tolerate the risk to the kittens if she can move in and out of the Manor without restriction. She will not be permitted to kill members of the pride." Lucius growled. His rage poured off of him. He blamed himself for not stopping his sister's delusions years ago.

"How are Ron and the twins?" Charlie asked after the three men had stood in silence for a time. He did want to know, but it was also to break the growing, tense silence.

Harry lifted his head and rowled an inquiry. His whiskers bristled forward in interest, his large, emerald green eyes shone with intelligence. Charlie laughed and leaned over to pet the inquisitive kitten.

"Sorry, Harry. I can't understand you. Why don't you change back?" The freckled man asked, scratching Harry under the chin. Harry's eyes closed in ecstasy. His tail quivering in delight.

"He has a little trouble changing back to human form. The few times he's changed to were form it has taken hours for him to return to human and usually it is a bit at a time." Lucius said while watching the tableau on the bed. 

Draco looked more comfortable as Snape helped him drink some brew from a small cup in tiny sips. Yaji had lifted Draco in his arms again and was trying to take the cup from the wizard, but Snape snarled just as fiercely as the were-leopard and Yaji pulled his hand back.

Bill and Charlie both looked startled. Their attention was not on Yaji and Snape. They were both staring down at Harry.

"He is able to maintain a partial form?" Bill asked, at last. His bright blue eyes concerned.

"Yes. In fact he's stuck in it until he changes back bit by bit." Lucius confirmed, shortly. He ruffled the dark fur under his hand, pulling Harry tighter to him. The raven were-cat put a big paw over the man's foot, licked his hand, wetly.

"You know the last one who was able to do that so young was...." Charlie added in a rush, then stopped short of saying the name. 

"Voldemort." Lucius said into the silence, deliberately keeping his voice low, so only the four of them heard it. "I remember."

Bill and Charlie turned their attention on the purring, giant were-feline sitting at their feet. Harry rubbed his cheek against Lucius' hip, and purred even louder.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

 

Bill Weasley was going over the ancient wards of Malfoy Manor. The writing was faded and the penmanship quite questionable in places, hardly more than random scratches, but he had read worse. Far, far worse, truthfully. 

The wards were set to keep strangers out, unless they had permission from the head of the Household. Family, those with Malfoy blood, or those wed to Malfoys, could apparate in and out at will. Or, naturally, members of the pride. 

Andromeda's aberrance and treasonous behavior, had not been anticipated by the author of the wards. The binding oaths should have prevented it. But, the sister of the king was insane. It was up to Bill to fix the loophole.

Therein lay the problem. Somehow, Bill needed to change the archaic spells to prevent Andromeda from apparating into the Manor or it's surrounding grounds. Despite her Malfoy blood. The trouble with altering spells this old was...you never were certain just what method had been used to set them in the first place. And disassembling them incorrectly would result in a collapse of all the wards. And no protection at all. It was complex and dangerous, risky. Probably it shouldn't even be attempted.

Very deliberately Bill began diagramming the wards on a piece of parchment. The tiny lines grew from just a few, to dozens, then half a hundred and he kept inscribing the fine squiggles. The connections became ever more complex. He joined the sixth ward with the tenth and sat for a moment admiring the spell. 

The wizard who had written the spell had been a genius. It was elaborate, yet stunningly simple in it's construction. As the last lines fell into place, Bill was seized by an even greater admiration. The wizard had been a master of his craft, worthy of being called an artist. It was flawless, incredibly, visually captivating. A mesmer. A puzzle designed to trap an unwary wizard in the labyrinthine workings, leading him, or her, in never ending, dizzying circles. Never quite grasping the solution to the wards. Unless they found the key.

Now it was up to Bill to follow the hundreds of lines and find the one line he could change, twist and manipulate, to forbid Andromeda access, without causing the entire structure to leak, creating a back door that clever practitioners of magic could exploit, or worse yet to collapse the whole framework, to topple like a house of cards. 

Bill grinned, his eyes sparkling. He loved this kind of work. He licked his lips and wrote so fast his quill was a blue blur as he moved it over the scroll, Drops of ink flew, all miraculously missing the scroll as the solution to the wards began to take shape.

A small mound of crumpled and shredded vellum grew beside Bill's chair as he tried first one solution then another. Discarding each when the balance of the diagram was not perfect. He scribbled faster. Tore up more of the scrolls, flinging the scraps into the air. Far from being frustrated with the amount of effort, he was grinning maniacally. Gods, he loved this!

Charlie was seated not far away, head bent close to Kaithas' as they conferred.

"Lucius has taken the boy as his Chosen. A fitting choice when you think about it." Charlie said, getting a cautious nod from the Seer. "And Harry is just being himself, getting into a lot of trouble. Not doing what a good, obedient kitten would do. Am I right?" 

Kaithas nodded again, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You sound as if you have heard all I told you before. As if he has made a habit of being difficult. Yet, you think it is an acceptable circumstance, that our king has taken him as his Chosen?"

"No, not really. Not exactly. It is a lot of pressure, more than Harry needs. It is just...you have to know Harry. I could have predicted all of this. These kinds of things just happen to him. He does what he must, what he thinks is right. He has the heart of a hero, but he is very vulnerable at the same time. More a child than many. It is just pure luck things happened this way. If he'd not been taken as the Chosen he might have self-destructed. This is actually the best way it could have worked out. I mean if he *had* to be a lycanthrope."

"But, there have been several major problems..." Kaithas was obviously skeptical of Charlie's conclusion.

"Believe me, where Potter is concerned, these complications don't come close to true problems. His problems come in industrial size only. These barely qualify as blips. Now. We have to get to work on keeping the problems small." Charlie said, as his brow furrowed. He tugged on his long, bright, carroty-orange braid, rolling the length between his fingers. "Then we can iron out the rest of these..inconveniences."

"I don't understand how you can minimize these many concerns. There have been several areas in which the pride laws have been ignored, flouted...." Kaithas began, but Charlie held up a hand.

"Please, Kaithas, humor me for a moment, allow me to explain. Let's see. Harry is a powerful wizard. The most powerful of his generation, even though he was raised by Muggles, in Muggle society. His feelings about sex are very conservative, puritanical, very Muggle views, unfortunately. He doesn't know any other way. If he had been taken to the furs by more than one of us, he might have struck out, considering it rape, not just the workings of a normal pride. He may have felt that he had to defend himself. He might have destroyed Malfoy Manor and half the pride in one go." Charlie shuddered, then drew a deep breath. "So, forgive me, Seer, if I tell you the problems we do have aren't as bad as they seem. I honestly mean no disrespect."

"So." Kaithas said, after a long minute of contemplation, ascertaining that the younger were-leopard was indeed sincere. "How do we fix these...tiny troubles? Graeme has proposed certain...methods, that are now being used. Are you aware of them?"

"Merlin's blood! Graeme? What kinds of things?" Charlie went pale. He had had his own run-ins with the pride's third. He had learned to respect the man's quick paw. Graeme had been his primary disciplinarian while he was a kitten. And still, as an adult, gave him the willies when he did anything at all that might be questionable according to the pride's laws. Envisioning the monumental catastrophe of a clash between Graeme and Harry made Charlie go cold all over. "I can't think of a worse combination. Graeme and Harry?"

"Calm yourself. Just breathe." Kaithas told the man beside him, laying a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "You are shaking like a leaf. Are you unwell? Shall I get you some water?"

"No. No. Just tell me, what has Graeme done? It is possible here is still time to fix it." Charlie gasped, working to slow his panting breaths.

Kaithas frowned at him, the freckles stood out, splashes of darkness on bleached white skin. Not a good sign. He kept his voice low and soft, chafing the strong hands between his own to warm them. "I don't see that there has been a problem with how our third is handling the situation. He has decreed Harry will spend time with the senior members of the pride, get used to them, to their touch. It is working out well."

"I can't...Harry is letting them do this? Letting them touch him?" Charlie exclaimed. It had taken years before the boy had allowed the members of the Weasley family to include him in general hugs of greeting. Now he was letting the pride members touch him, this soon? Charlie couldn't believe it.

"Yes. With the caveat that there will be no sex with any but Lucius. He was outraged when he discovered that the Chosen was at times given for a night's pleasure to high ranking and much honored visitors. He threatened to castrate any who he was given to. He is also not happy with the fact our king has others in the furs. There was quite a scene when he discovered that. But, he is far more...controlled and tolerant since Graeme took over his training."

"He likes the structure. Knowing what to expect. My god. I never would have thought...Graeme, he is so predictable, so clear in his expectations. That is a refreshing change for Harry, I'd bet. It never would have occurred to me...." Charlie was chagrined, shaking his head, his breathing was almost back to normal. He stood. "I really should speak to Graeme, then."

Kaithas smirked at him. "Are you sure you want that?" He asked point blank. The mere mention of Graeme was enough to knock the man off his stride. Give him the wiggins.

Charlie laughed nervously. "No. I pretty much want anything but that. My knees are shaking and I think I am going to throw up. But, I *need* to do it, anyway. For Harry."


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

 

Sirius Black waited for his friend and fellow lycanthrope, Remus Lupin. He paced impatiently. Dumbledore had refused to tell him more than that Harry was safe. End of conversation, would you care for a lemon drop, or a mint? No? How about a chocolate? Sirius had almost screamed in frustration. He knew he wasn't exactly known for his patience, but damn it, Dumbledore would tax a saint.

No. He would not like a mint, or a lemon drop, or a damn mountain of chocolates. Sirius wanted one thing. He wanted to know where Harry Potter was. And he wanted to see him with his own two eyes and make sure the boy was OK. Not be told by the meddling old fool that everything was just hunky-dory and not to worry. If Dumbledore tried to pat him one more time, he was going to give in to the overwhelming urge and bite the man.

Remus would tell him where Harry was, how to find him or Sirius would follow him until he drove the man crazy. Sirius had just returned from Italy to discover his young godson was no where to be found. He had come to Hogwarts before going to the pack's home, expressly to talk to Harry. But, no one had seen Harry in weeks. And there were rumors of a monster running loose killing students. 

He had finally decided to share with Harry the truth behind his animal shape. He was a were-wolf. Not just a big black dog-animagus. Together with that decision had come the second decision, to ask Tambyn to accept Harry into the pack, to allow Sirius to turn him.

Only now with the monster running around the campus Sirius was frantic with fear that the thing had hurt Harry somehow and no one was telling him. Sirius had also looked for Ron Weasley but that boy was gone also. Draco Malfoy, absent after apparently having a near encounter with the monster. It was not getting better, hearing these tales and Sirius was about to go on a serious tear if he didn't get the answers he needed. Fast.

Sirius glanced at the wall clock impatiently. Remus should be done with the third year DADA students any moment now. Then they would talk. He would find out just what the hell was going on. Sirius slowed his pacing as the hallway began to fill with chattering young wizards and witches. All walking in groups, all looking around more than usual as if looking for danger. More than a few eyed him suspiciously, clutching at their wands.

At last the students were past and he walked into the empty classroom. Lupin was bending down, slightly awkwardly, obviously stiff from his so many hurts. He was not taking to lycanthropy well. It had started a rare malady in him, one that made his joints less mobile and his healing wasn't very fast at all. Almost, Sirius thought, as if he was allergic to lycanthropy. But that did nothing to harm his wizarding power. He was the best DADA professor that Hogwarts had in recent memory.

"Lupin." Sirius called as he approached the other man, trying to keep his tone even. He was mad, yes, but there was no reason to take it out on Remus. Not yet.

The other man whirled around, wand half raised. Then he let out a long sigh and slumped back against the desk, tiredly.

"Sirius. So you are back. Have you been to see the Headmaster?" Lupin asked quietly.

"I have. And he told me nothing. I want to know where my godson is. Where is Harry?" Sirius asked, teeth bared.

"Dumbledore is a coward." Lupin remarked, half-heartedly, if he had had more strength he would have sounded angry. His jaw was clenched and the words were forced out through grit teeth. "Come, humor me, let's sit down and I will tell you what I know. If you would stop disappearing, or let someone know where you could be contacted, I would have told you sooner." He limped towards the chairs set before the fireplace. A quiet word and a merry fire was warming the room.

Sinking into one of the overstuffed chairs, he waited for the restless figure of Sirius Black to join him. He hoped that not being able to pace would slow down the man's inevitable explosion of anger when he learned what had happened. But he doubted it. With the news he had to share, Sirius would be going ballistic.

Sirius fell into the chair like a petulant child, flinging a leg over one of the wide arms, slumping. He growled. "Just tell me! I want to know what all this avoiding and trying to calm me down is all about. He isn't dead. I'd know that. So just what is everyone not telling me?"

Remus Lupin took a deep breath, leaning back in his own chair. He sighed. 'Now, why wait?' He asked himself, 'time to get it over with'. So he blurted it out. "Harry is a lycanthrope, a were-leopard." 

There was a few seconds pause, then Sirius was launched into the air as if rocket propelled. "What?! I'll kill Malfoy!" He howled, spittle flying. 

Remus dropped his head into his hand, and rubbed his forehead. Some things were so predictable it was almost scary, if one had the energy to be scared. He sighed again massaging his temples.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

 

One of the side benefits of being handled by the other adult lycanthropes that Harry had not expected was that every time he returned to Lucius' company smelling of another were-leopard, Lucius was driven to cover that smell with his own scent. 

Harry had walked into Lucius' private rooms and being completely overwelmed by fatigue, lay on the fur covered bed. He felt the lassitude drift over him slowly as he fell asleep, warm and content. He liked being here, he had to admit it, in Lucius' bed. It smelled of his alpha. It was a guilty pleasure for him, each time, knowing he was allowed to be here, though it was a scandal. In fact, it being a scandal made it all that much more enjoyable.

Harry fell asleep with a smile.

He woke when he felt the licking begin. His whole body took in a startled breath, held it, then he gave in to the feeling. He was nude and being tasted, he stretched blissfully, going languidly limp. This was heaven, he decided. Laying here, barely alert, with Lucius attending to him, not expecting him to do anything but lay back and enjoy the sensations.

The hot, wet tongue traveled over his feet and ankles. So sensitive. He trembled in delight. The repeated strokes of the lapping tongue sending almost imperceptible shivers throghout his body. He moaned, feeling particularly vulnerable to his lover's touch today, as the licking made slow progress past his calves, his knees, up to his thighs, then to his hips.

He was sprawled bonelessly, as Lucius bathed him with his tongue, his saliva, his scent. Oh this was sooo good. So good. His legs were nudged aside, falling open, wide, one lifted and Lucius burrowed in closer. Nuzzling into the deep crevices of Harry's body. Applying his attention where he wanted it most, sucking his penis into a warm, slick mouth. The young man moaned, this was utterly unexpected, his lover suckling him, nursing his cock. He was hard, straining, arching into the heat, as Lucius laved him, nibbled, sucked at him. Harry writhed, panting, while the were-king held him as he wanted him, wantonly spread, so he could feast.

Harry sighed in surprise, wondering if he should be shocked or embarrassed as Lucius licked him very intimately. But being embarrassed took too much energy, besides, it felt incredible, having that talented mouth down there. Swiping him with a seeking heat, tasting him like delicous candy, spearing him on his tongue.

Sweet thrills raced through him as Lucius bathed his perineum with singled minded hunger, his tongue slipping further and further back, until it glided over the opening to Harry's body. Harry shivered, let out a tiny cry, feeling his body go liquid, his muscles melting uselessly as Lucius manipulated him, positioned him. Entered him with the tip of his tongue and Harry let out a sound that shocked himself, a groan of intense longing.

Lucius nudged him over onto his side, Harry was further licked, up the small of his back, to his shoulders, to his nape, where the man allowed his sharp teeth to graze the skin.

Then Harry felt the full, slick cock poised to enter him. He went limp, waiting, wanting, letting out tiny cries with each breath. Sounds of longing, and begging, while Lucius pushed into him, a fraction of an inch, another, coaxing the tight portal to relax, to surrender, to accept the invader, to want the claiming to continue. Lucius reached down, touched Harry where he was being entered, smeared wetness around the tight ring. Harry's head fell back, against Lucius' neck, their hair mingling, dark and pale. Lucius kissed the sweat dewed cheek, murmured encouragement, whispering reasssurances.

"Ahhh." Harry shuddered, angling his hips to take the penetration, make it deeper, feel it move powerfully into him, almost too much, his breath sighed out of him, as Lucius' hands grasped his slender hips and drove into him. His figers grabbed at the furs, balling into fists. Harry wailed. It was so big, so hard, too much, he needed it. He needed every bit of it, all of Lucius, his lover inside of him. This long hardness, this moment, it was all his. The heart he felt beating against his back, all his. The panting breath along his neck, feathering over his face, in his ear, all his. 

Lucius' large hand knotted in the thick, raven hair, so like silk, pulling back, exposing the slim throat, the sweet features, as he forced his erection inside the pliant body, listening to the mewling cries of ecstasy and surrender. He tasted the salty throat, biting it, careful not to break the skin.

"You are mine, my kitten." He hissed, barely more than a puff of air, like fingers sliding over Harry's cheek. Growled through clenched teeth. The kitten's whole body stood to attention, strained, trembling, open, waitng, taking all the force the larger older were-cat could give him, melting with each surge into his body, giving in, yet demanding more. 

"Take me, fill me, tear me apart, I am yours...." Harry thought, not realizing he murmured it out loud. He shook like a leaf in the man's hold. 

It was at that moment the doorway was filled, as Bill Weasley stepped into the room, waving his completed diagram of the ward's solution excitedly. His mouth was opening to call out his triumph to Lucius when he realized what he was seeing and the words dried up in his throat.

Harry writhing in estasy or in exquiste pain. Arched up into the king's hold, keening low, sweet, skin flushed, one tight nipple visible, a flushed jewel, as Lucius held him, riding him. Bill gaped, frozen in place by the absolute beauty of the youth and the man enjoined.

"Mine." Lucius snarled, his fangs growing, his eyes going feral, light silver, burning grey, as they fixed on the intruder, not his second and not his third.

"Yours, my alpha." Harry and Bill answered together, meaning different things, yet the same thing, just as faintly, Harry afraid to yell it, though every fiber of his being wanted to shout it out loud. Bill afraid almost, to breathe.

Harry was the Chosen. Bill's heart raced, he sank to the floor, unable to look away, transfixed by what he saw. Harry was the lover of the king, it was the king's flesh which pierced him, the flesh he rode. Which made him cry out his pleasure and his need. The flesh he served, was royal meat, thick in his sheath, filling him so wonderfully, frighteningly full.

The sound, the scent, sending shockingly strong lust surging through Bill's body. And with it fear, intense, all encompassing, as he knew his king might attack him for it. For daring to be aroused, uninvited, here unbidden.

Lucius drove himself into the tightness, the sheath contracting around his own flesh, making him moan with triumph, as the beloved body twisted and shook underneath him. The heat scent rose up, the scent of arousal, the groan as he drove in further, striking the nub inside that made all of the kitten's body spasm, that small place that drew a scream from his beloved, that made him open that last fraction, that made his body clutch all the harder.

Bill backed out of the room on hands and knees, head lowered, eyes fixed on the burning orbs of his king. Cursing himself for being so caught up in his puzzle that he hadn't thought before he ran into the room, had ignored the scents filling the air. He made it to the outer hall before collapsing on his side, curling up, knees drawn up to his chest, the parchment crushed in his involuntary fist.

The other man was gone, the threat to his kitten, not immediate. There was nothing on the king's mind now, nothing but taking his kitten, his Chosen, and pounding into him, driving them both to orgasm, filling Harry's body with his seed. With gentle, irresistable force the king tugged Harry's head back, turning him so their faces came closer, so he could lick the treasured face, his cheeks, his soft, parted lips, catch the cries, constant and tremulous, in his own mouth. Their tongues meshed, played, mated, as their bodies surged, rode the crest and fell over. Spurting hot, white, thick ropes, over and over, as Harry shuddered and whimpered.

Soft kisses. Long, lingering wet, full mouthed kisses. Sucking, tangling tongues. Hands, soothing, him, loving him, cradling him, as he lay, painting for air, destroyed by the strength of his love, the loving. Lucius still long, hard, thick inside of him, still pulsing, drawing small gasps from the exhausted youth.

Outside the room, Bill lay on the stone floor. Shaking. Amrys and Severus Snape turned the corner of the hall, saw him and both men came quickly to his side, kneeling. 

"Are you injured? Lie still." Snape asked, running his expert hands and eyes over the trembling figure. He freed the crumpled parchment from the man's fist, setting it aside. Bill looked at him, eyes wide, alarmed, then he relaxed seeing who it was,...and who it wasn't. 

Amrys laid a gentle hand on his friend, Bill shook harder. Arousal scent from Bill, sex scent from Lucius' rooms. No smell of blood. The smells told Amrys the story, he did not need to ask for an explanation. He settled himself behind the redhaired man, holding him, comforting him. Reassuring him. 

Bill moaned. Snape laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Take a breath. Slowly. Hold it. Release it. Again." Snape's velvet voice provided a diversion, Bill seized it with both hands. He drew in a breath, held it, let it go. And repeated the sequence. He was almost relaxed, almost calm, almost ready to stand, when the king stepped out of his rooms and into the hall.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

 

Lucius came to stand over the three men. His eyes were still silver, still burning, but his fangs were not bared, nor displayed in a threat. He stood looking down at them, face unreadable. His eyes flicked from one face, the tanned, calm visage of his second, to another, the pale skinned, disapproving face of the Hogwarts' professor who rose to his feet under the scrutiny and came to rest on the unnaturally white, starkly freckled face of his brilliant, obsessive, and easily distracted, redheaded curse breaker.

"Bill!" The call was sharp, fearful, coming from the broad shouldered man who had rounded the corner and was now loping towards them, attention fully fixed on his brother. Graeme, frowning, was not far behind. Charlie slid to a stop on his own knees, next to his older brother.

"What happened?" He asked, his hands roaming over the other man, frantically searching for any possible injury, carding through carroty hair for bumps and bruises. It wasn't all that uncommon for himself or other Dragon Master's to be hurt. But he couldn't find any injury. "Where do you hurt? Are you in pain?"

"Nnnnoo." Bill managed to get out. Charlie looked at Amrys, who was still holding Bill, then at Snape.

"What happened? He isn't acting like he is OK." Charlie insisted as Graeme glided up to the group. He, unlike Charlie, looked at the pride king. Then he moved closer, bent his head, offering his cheek and the side of his throat.

"My king." The dark eyed man murmured. Lucius rubbed his face along the cheek of his third. Graeme inhaled, smelled sex, his eyes gleaming. The Potter boy. He smelled him on the king. And he smelled Bill's heat. He smiled, flashing his pearly white, very sharp teeth. He could just guess what had happened. Bill had not been paying attention. Again.

"Leave us." The king said to his second, third, Charlie, and to the visiting Potion's Master. Snape eyed him critically, raising a single brow, saying nothing, taking a single step back, then not moving further.

Charlie surged to his feet, looming protectively. "No! Tell me what is wrong. Bill is hurt..." 

Lucius folded his arms over his chest. "Charlie..." he began gently, but firmly.

"He is not hurt. Not yet." Graeme corrected. Charlie turned on him, glaring. 

"Obey your king." Graeme ordered harshly.

"And what do you know about it?" Charlie snapped. "He's my brother. I will take care of him. Come on Bill..."

"I trust you won't do anything regrettable." Snape said acerbically to the tall blond king, his gaze moving from Lucius' to rest on the two brothers. "The Weasleys are all remarkably loyal, though perhaps given to impulsive action. They have a strong tendency not to think first."

"I am in full control of myself. I am aware of the strengths and the weaknesses of all my leopards." The were-king said in response. "Do not concern yourself, Severus. You are not of my pride. Amrys, Graeme." Lucius made a shooing motion. "Leave me with my leopard. Go."

Amrys took hold of the dark clad man's arm and guided him down the hall. Snape went, having said what he meant to say. Graeme took hold of Charlie's arm. Charlie did not go willingly, he struggled.

"No!" He yelled. "Let me stay!"

Graeme grabbed him, tossing him over his shoulder. Charlie fought and managed to wriggle away. Graeme caught him, spinning him, Charlie lashing out, landing a blow. Graeme sprouted claws, lifted his paws. Amrys abandoned Snape, who wisely stayed still, observing with significant interest and headed towards the fighting were-cats.

"Stop." Lucius' voice held, command, authority, ringing of the imperative of the call. The were-leopards froze, istantly. He extended his arm. "Bill Weasley, come to me." 

Bill obeyed, rising to his feet, head bowed and went to his king. "I am not angry." Lucius said as he took the man into his arms. Bill sagged in relief. Then Lucius extended his arm again, continuing to hold Bill with the other. It was a voiceless command this time. Amrys, Graeme and Charlie moved towards him. He slid his arm around Charlie, who was shaking with the adrenaline of his fight and consumed with fear for his brother.

Lucius met the gazes of his second and third. They moved in, surrounding the two brothers with their arms and bodies. They stood in a knot, the five of them, as Severus Snape looked at them bemusedly. He reacted slightly, raising his brows, when the king of the pride nuzzled and licked the freckled faces of Charlie and Bill. That was not part of the normal greeting Snape witnessed. He was first to notice the movement from the king's private rooms. His dark eyes took in the disheveled, unclothed youth. Not a bad look for Potter, he decided wryly. Rather fetching.

"Hey. What's going on?" A sleepy, confused voice cut through everything. Harry stood in the doorway rubbing at his eyes, looking more alarmed by the second. Lucius immediately held out his hand. Harry came forward, taking it without hesitation. He was pulled into the pride embrace.

Bill moaned as Lucius rubbed his cheek again, bent down, touched him next to his ear. He pushed at Bill's face with his own chin, until their gazes locked, held.

"I am not angry." Lucius repeated. 

"But, it would be best if you waited for leave, before you came into my private rooms." Lucius said mildly. "There are three permitted entrance without my leave. My second, my third and my Chosen."

Bill nodded, his bright eyes locked with those of his king.

"What did you come to tell me?" Lucius asked. 

Bill's expression transformed from one instant to the next, going from trepidation, to excitement in a flash. "Oh! I found the solution!" He announced, face alight.

Before Lucius could respond, there was a pop and a fetid stench filled the air. The men all turned as one, knowing what they would find. The tall, deformed figures of the monstrous, magically perverted lycanthropes were in the hallway, one on either side of Severus Snape. 

And off to one side of them, virtually unnoticed, due to the distraction of the monsters, was the figure of a black furred canine. Who leaped forward directly at Harry when the group of were-leopards sprang apart to face the inturders. Harry screamed as he was grabbed, held, and the hallway dissolved around him. He dimly heard the roar of rage as he was apparated out of the protection of the Manor. 

Only one of the were-cats was close enough to respond to Harry's scream. Graeme launched himself at the canine-man who had seized Harry, locking his strong arms around them and was pulled into the apparation spell. They tumbled into space.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

 

They hit the ground rolling, the apparating spell thrown off kilter by the unintended addition of Graeme. Furniture went flying, a side table and a well padded chair, as well as a lamp and a dozen knick-knacks, were tossed about by their tumbling entrance.

They came to rest against one of the walls of the Hogwarts Castle, in the sitting room of Remus Lupin. 

Lupin was caught completely unawares, pouring his cup of tea, when suddenly his room was host to a snarling were-wolf, a hissing were-cat, and a naked, bewildered, terrified looking Harry Potter. His tea splashed over the rim of the cup and overfilled the saucer, dripping onto the counter before Lupin managed to react. The pot hit the counter with a crash as he nearly tossed it down and leaped for the boy, to drag him away from the immediate danger of the already scrapping were-animals.

Harry was screaming over the cacophony. "Sirius, Graeme, stop....Stop! Don't hurt him! Graeme, I am OK! Sirius!" He was hopping up and down, waving his arms, unable to decide what to do.

Lupin arrived at his side drawing him back, but Harry fought the man's protective hold.

"You don't understand!" He yelled. "Graeme will kill him! He doesn't know who he is! He thinks I am being threatened. Let me go! Graeme, stop! Please!"

But, Lupin did not turn him loose. He did however raise his wand and cast a spell. Both combatants froze in place for a heartbeat, then tumbled to the floor in twin heaps. Lupin hurried to the black were-wolf's side. "Get them apart, Harry. Spells don't last long on lycanthropes. We are resistant to magic."

Harry lost no time pulling Graeme over to the far wall and sitting on him, as Remus did the same with Sirius. It was only moments before Graeme heaved under Harry. Harry wrapped arms and legs around the bigger were-leopard, clinging with all his strength.

"Graeme! Graeme! Can you hear me? It's Harry! Graeme, don't fight any more! It's my godfather. He isn't going to hurt me!" Harry repeated over and over, clutching at the big, strong body.

"He stinks." Graeme's voice was surprisingly even, as he gained his feet easily despite bearing Harry's weight as well as his own. One hand moved under Harry's butt, supporting him. Harry didn't loosen his hold. "He is a were-wolf, dog-breath, kitten stealer."

"He's an animagus." Harry corrected, only to hear a voice from the other side of the room.

"No." Remus Lupin said. "He...we, are both lycanthropes. Were-wolves, Harry. Sirius didn't want you to know until you were older."

"Now...too....late." Sirius Black slurred, from under the shielding form of his best friend, Remus. "Gonna ask Tambyn, wanted to make you one of us. God-damned Malfoy got to you first. I'll kill the perverting bastard!" Sirius' voice grew stronger as the magic wore off. 

"No!" Harry yelled, hearing Graeme's growl. "Sirius! It was an accident. I was attacked by one of the monsters. One of the ones you were with when you entered the Malfoy Manor." Harry frowned. "Why were you with them?"

"I chanced across them, they were talking about going to the Manor, confronting that feline ponce and they smelled so fucking awful neither of them noticed me, or that I went along with them. Somethin' wrong with those two." Black glowered at the were-cat Harry was holding. 

Graeme was half human, half animal. Sirius was all human now. And the state of the leopard told him, even in his agitated mind, just how powerful the cat was. He'd have to get Harry away from him carefully. Make Harry come to him, get far enough away the cat couldn't grab on this time, and apparate the two of them out...without the damn pussy-cat.

"Sirius, don't you dare do what you are planning. Graeme, I believe your name is, after all it is the one Potter has been yelling. No more. Let us sit down like civilized men and talk." Remus said, actually...ordered. "You, Sirius, are going to stay with me, where I can watch you. And Harry you stay with your cat."

Harry was carried by a wary and suspicious Graeme over to one of the overstuffed chairs closest to the door to the hall. Sirius snarled but allowed himself to be taken to another chair, sitting down calculating the best angle to approach the cat who had Harry, only to have Lupin sit in his lap, trapping him.

"Hey," Black complained. Lupin shook his head.

"No. Don't even ask. I am too tired to deal with your shenanigans. You are going to stay put and we are going to solve this with reasonable conversation and negotiation, not fighting. He's stronger than you anyway, in case you haven't noticed. And, in case you haven't noticed. Harry is fine with him, he isn't afraid of him. So let it be." Remus scolded, sighing. "You made me spill my tea."

"I'll get you some, professor." Harry said unwinding himself from the tall, copper-haired were-leopard, who growled. "You want some, too, Graeme?"

"No. I don't know it is safe. You won't have any either." Was Graeme's clipped response.

"But, I can get if for professor Lupin?" Harry pressed. "Then I'll come right back."

Graeme shook his head, and rose. "If you insist on getting it for your professor, I will go with you." 

And he followed Harry into the kitchen nook where Harry searched through the cupboards for a clean cup and saucer, filled it, located a few sweet biscuits and carried both over to the table next to the chair that held Lupin and Sirius. Sirius snarled and heaved at the weight in his lap half-heartedly, not budging the vigilant Lupin.

Graeme snarled right back and had Harry up and over his shoulder, moving for the door almost before Harry had the saucer down.

"No!" Harry shouted. "We have to talk! Stop." And to his utter shock, Graeme did, sitting down, tucking Harry half behind him in the chair, his hands, sporting long, wicked claws which he showed to the two were-wolves.

"So talk. Convince me why I shouldn't kill you for assaulting my king's Chosen." Graeme rumbled, his lips peeling back from his fearsome teeth. Harry gaped at him.

"He was my godson first!" Sirius howled, in agitated response. Remus and Harry looked at each other and sighed.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

 

Snape lost no time in jumping forward and away from the fetid monsters suddenly on either side of him. He felt the rush of air next to his face, a mere instant slower, he realized, and he'd have taken a full impact to his head. With the power the thing possessed, it might have killed him. The odor rolling off of the monsters was appalling, as if they were in an abattoir, surrounded by rotting corpses.

He instinctively grabbed his wand as he moved, fighting Voldemort and his minions had given him good reflexes and made him eternally vigilant, he had certainly been in more than one battle. He ran forward three long, off-balance steps then spun on his heel.

Someone gold and brown flashed by him, then one pale and blond, long fur flying, a second later two streaks of flaming carrot red fur flew past. He heard the roar and clash as he whirled around, wand raised. Big, disgusting hands were reaching for him, crazed eyes blazing as one of the creatures had pursued him, not deterred enough by the two were-cats impacting it, raking it with long talons. It swiped at him again, seeming intent on reaching him out of all reason. 

Snape had thought the thing was bent on destroying the pride and its members. It made little sense that it would preferentially attack him, until he recalled it had started its attacks at Hogwarts. Only lately had attacks moved to the Manor including the attack on Draco. 

The Potion's Master skittered out of reach, hearing the cloth of his trousers rip on the extended claws that raked at his thigh, missing flesh by a tiny fraction of an inch but destroying the fabric. It galvanized every nerve and muscle in his body to contract at once as he pushed away, bouncing backwards on his heels, palms and butt, barely retaining hold on his wand, his hard grip nearly snapping it in half. More claws flashed, Amrys' and Bill's, these mercifully tearing into the beast and not into him.

The noise was deafening, roaring, snarling, screams of ear-piercing levels. And the sound of tearing flesh, the shower of blood sprinkling down like a fine rain. It slapped into his face, he held back his flinch as the mess flowed, dripping down. He ignored it. He could not afford the distraction.

He fell back, out of range, only just, his wand useless until he could get more room. He scrambled backwards like a spider, trying to distance himself. The monster followed. He saw a tanned arm, long and magnificently muscular, wrap around the thing's throat, jerking back, hard. Then Amrys sprang away, after diverting the beast's attention. He was half man-half leopard, Snape stared at the gore soak warrior. Merlin! What an inopportune moment to realize that the pride's second was so attractive.

The fight was on, Snape watching from a slight distance. He didn't have the physical strength of the lycanthropes and the monstrous things. He was not impervious to claws, nor did he have the healing ability of the lycanthropes. He had to stay away if possible. 

The combatants were too close for him to cast a spell without hitting those he didn't want to hit. He methodically went through his choices for a spell that would give the advantage to the were-leopards without causing any harm to them. The monsters were so large, even the strength of the were-leopards was making only a moderate impact on them. He had to come up with something. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. There was a possibility....

Snape lifted his wand as Amrys punched his fist through the torso of one of the beasts, claws ripping. The monster smacked him away and he flew back against the wall, while Bill Weasley leaped on the creature's back. Behind them Snape saw Lucius Malfoy and Charlie Weasley, both in animal form fighting the second thing.

Snape wasted no time, he spoke the spell he'd chosen. Light flashed, brilliantly blinding, excruciating in it's intensity. It would have been best to be able to give a warning, but, there had been no time. When he could see again there were two women on the floor, surprisingly small and four growling lycanthropes crouched over them. 

Lucius snapped back into human form, covered in blood and bits of decaying flesh. He was hovering over the body of a strange woman. Strange to him, but Snape recognized her at once, and he moved around the group to stand over her, fighting the tremble of adrenaline that was still racing through his body. 

"Sybil Trelawny. Professor of Divination at Hogwarts. Completely without talent, as far as divination's concerned and most magical skills. I am astounded she has managed to do something like this." Snape said as he bent over her. The other leopards were changing back, healing as they did so.

"You recognize this one?" Lucius commented, bending over the former professor. He pointed to the other woman, who lay sprawled on her back, a gaping hole in her chest where Amrys' taloned hand had torn into her. "That one was my sister, Andromeda. And this was completely beyond her level of magic."

"She is dead, my king." Amrys said, unnecessarily. He kept the note of satisfaction out of his voice, but he felt it. She had done enough damage to the pride. Now, she could do no more.

"There was no choice." Lucius responded. "She would have allowed no compromise. She had condemned herself with her own actions."

He looked at the other men. "Now, where is my Chosen? And where is Graeme? Who was it who took him?" He growled.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

 

"Sirius Black." Snape supplied, having unexpected trouble tearing his eyes away from the tall, muscular form of the pride's second, Amrys. He marshaled all of his indomitable will and forced his attention away. Now was not the time to find this kind of thing out. Nor the time to explore it.

Strange. Snape was, as far as he knew, heterosexual. Though in recent years, celibate was more accurate. He'd never had the slightest interest in another man sexually. He forced himself to shelve the questions that he'd be asking himself...later. Now, they had to address finding Potter, before that imbecile godfather of his did something foolish and irreversible.

Lucius turned to look at him, pale eyes hot. "Sirius Black? I know that name. Who is he?" He asked, his voice deeper and more penetrating than normal. He was standing tall, flushed with the past battle as they walked into his private bathing room. His broad shoulders were dappled with blood. 

"Potter's godfather." Snape answered. thinking how, perhaps if the lycanthropes had taken sides in the war against Voldemort, things might have gone more smoothly, resolution come more quickly. Yet, they had adamantly declined. All of them. Canine, feline and rodent. Refusing to give a reason, beyond it was not their fight. They were highly insular. But Snape had a sneaking suspicion there was some other reason.

"Why would he be working with my sister and the witch to invade my home?"Lucius asked, harshly. Frowning, brows drawn down, mouth a hard line. "How great a risk is he to my Chosen's safety?"

"No doubt he was thinking he was saving the boy from some horrible fate. Unfortunately, the man is a were-wolf. He is not going to be pleased to find out Potter is a were-leopard." Snape said, evenly. "I doubt he'd harm the boy, but when you are dealing with Black, there are accidents that tend to happen." It was all too predictable. Like a curse had been cast on the man. He took a deep breath before adding the rest of the information.

"At one time he was imprisoned in Azkaban as criminally insane. But, that proved to be an exaggeration." The Hogwarts professor tried to keep his delivery without inflection. Personally he thought Black *was* mentally deranged and dangerous. But it wouldn't do to inflame the situation they now found themselves in. Men who fought like he had just witnessed, didn't need any more motivation that might drive them to retaliation and excess emotion.

Lucius and Amrys exchanged glances, Lucius growled, until Amrys pushed him over to the edge of the water, stripping his clothing off. He propelled his king into the water.

"Wash, then we will go find Harry." Amrys said, comfortingly. Lucius scowled harder.

Snape watched as the other man entered the steam filled bathing pool. He was an adult, he'd certainly undressed in locker rooms before. But, he suddenly didn't want to be naked. Only the foul slime coating the front of his suit-robes and clinging wetly to his face, convinced him to reach for his buttons. Amrys moved directly into his view causing Severus' fingers to slip, fumbling at his fastenings.

The man was clad only in loose pants, silk or something equally fine, now soiled with the remains of the fight. Amrys looked down and saw the mess he was wearing, grimacing. Without blinking he divested himself of the clothing and stood naked in the misty room, like a primal nature god, moisture already condensing on his golden brown skin, dewing his blond hair. He shook his body, just like a dog flinging off dirt and glided into the water. Snape thought he was going to swallow his tongue.

They bathed as Lucius asked for more information. Snape concentrated on providing the answers and getting clean as quickly as possible. Once the bath was done, he was presented with clothing, not his usual trim robes and certainly not in the austere cut he usually wore. 

The fabric was light and fine, a black with faintly visible charcoal grey markings at the edges. The pants were like soft fingers caressing his skin, the long sleeved tunic, slightly more substantial, still conformed rather closely to his body. Still, they were clean and his own clothing was unwearable at this point. He would make do.

"Severus. Take me to the werewolf." Lucius was resplendent in a deep crimson fringed with black markings that made his skin glow white. His face was supremely haughty. Every inch a king. Which wouldn't impress Sirius Black in the least.

 

They arrived in the one place Snape was allowed to apparate into on Hogwarts' grounds. His own dungeon rooms. Snape took advantage of the location to grab clean boots. It was not far from his abode to the rooms of Remus Lupin. Lupin would know where Black was. The two were friends. Or possibly more, though Snape was amazed at the thought of the calm, gentle soul that was Remus Lupin, consorting with the agitated and dangerously impulsive Sirius Black.

They strode up the hall to the DADA professor's rooms, a silent and intent party of three. Snape, still in the borrowed clothing, Lucius in his fantastic robe, then the amber clad Amrys, whose clothing floated like spiderweb on the air currents. 

Amrys and Lucius were bare foot, Snape had refused to go without footwear, slipping his boots back on after wiping the gore from them. Now his new boots were firmly on his feet, the old ones burning to ashes in his fireplace. He'd never get the stench of those creatures out of them.

Snape paused outside Lupin's rooms. He knew at once Black was inside. He heard the sounds of sniffing in the air coming from the two men behind him. He was turning to tell Lucius, when the man pushed past him. His face frighteningly intent. He said one word.

"Harry." Lucius growled. Amrys followed him in as they burst through the door.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

 

Lucius slammed into the room. Crimson robes flying, hair streaming like silver and gold threads behind him. Two men who had been sitting, one on the other's lap, burst up from the chair they shared on the far side of the room. Or, rather, the one underneath catapulted upwards and the one seated in his lap was ejected into the air, limbs flailing. 

Amrys sprang up to his king's side, placing himself between Lucius and the two men.

There were five people inside the large, comfortable room. Amrys put his back to the two he knew were safest, Graeme and Harry. The other three he squared off with, watching them with wary, untrusting eyes. Lucius placed one hand on his second's shoulder. He glared at the men in front of them.

The black haired, disheveled man who had kidnapped his pride's Chosen, was the one who had been sitting in the chair, the one who had leaped up. A tall, thin, mildly sickly looking man with reddish brown hair next to him, both hands clasped tight to Black's upper arms. A moment ago he had been sitting in the black haired man's lap. Now he struggled to hold the other man still. To keep him from rushing over to the were-leopards and attacking. 

"Graeme?" Lucius said, over his shoulder, remaining on guard against the rooms non-pride occupants. Concentrating on the two who were moving, rather than the one who had remained seated.

"Your Chosen is safe and unharmed, my king." Graeme responded and the tension that had been apparent in Lucius' body eased, his shoulders lowered a fraction and he took a deep breath. He nodded his head, then lifted his chin as he stared down at the grappling men, who had now fallen to the floor. They seemed fairly evenly matched. One crazed and strong, the other more in control, enough so he could restrain the flailing one, for now.

"Yourself?" Lucius asked, a tone of gentleness creeping into his voice, softening it just enough not to cut the air with its sharpness.

"I am well, my king." Graeme murmured in return. He flushed, both surprised and pleased with Lucius' public declaration of concern before strangers.

"I am in your debt, my third, for following him here." Lucius said. Meaning every word. He would not have been able to forgive himself if Harry had been hurt, or killed. It was his role, to protect and care for the one he Chose. Yet that one, Harry, had vanished from right under his nose. Only Graeme's quick action had averted disaster. And only chance had made it the godfather and not Andromeda or the mad professor who had grabbed him.

"My privilege, my king." Graeme responded formally, but from his heart. Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgment. Graeme let his hold on the raven haired youth relax.

Harry let out a gasp, was around Graeme quickly, launching himself into Lucius' arms. He was wearing what appeared to be a nightshirt, far too long and yet it fit his shoulders well. Probably belonged to the thin man then, Lucius thought, hugging Harry with one arm, keeping the other free to defend them, lifting him up off his feet and pressing him to his chest. Pleased that Harry was clothed in some fashion, here among others not of the pride. 

The urge to claim him here, in front of the man who had stolen him was overwhelming. The need to show them all the youth was his, was the pride's, was very great. But, Lucius fought it. The situation was not yet stable. And the Chosen did not always respond well to being taken in public.

The godfather immediately began struggling, shouting and yelling threats, trying to charge across the room to reach Harry. The thin man was having trouble holding him, until the fifth man who had been in the room originally, stood and looped a long arm around Sirius. Holding him easily. Towering over them all. It was Tambyn, the were-wolf king.

"No. Please, Sirius. Don't. This is the pride's alpha, my king, Lucius Malfoy." Harry was saying. "Sirius, it's Ok. I'm fine. I don't mind being with the were-leopards." He was trying to calm the dark haired man. But, he knew enough that he did not try to leave the protection of Lucius' embrace and go to his godfather. Graeme came to stand alongside his king and the second, flanking them.

"I know who it is. He is a were-leopard." Sirius howled. Trying to squirm out of Remus' hold. "He stole you from your people!"

"What?" Harry said, truly puzzled. "What are you talking about, Sirius?"

"He planned this. Changed you while I was away and couldn't stop it.... Don't worry, I'll help you get away....I'll see you become one of us, not a filthy *cat*." Sirius snarled, eyes glowing red as he looked at Lucius. Lucius raised his brows. This one was dangerous.

"Quiet." Tambyn said in his deep, grating rumble. He turned to Lucius. "My wolf wishes to lay claim to this one. He says he is his guardian and did not give permission for him to be turned. By our law he has a right to the boy."

"He is mine!" Sirius howled again, despite Remus' soothing murmurs. "He belongs with the pack!"

"He. Is. My. Chosen." Lucius said, enunciating each word with icy clarity. "He can not be removed from my pride. I will not allow it."

"You are a king. You understand the sacred laws of the packs and the prides. You must allow me to take him and protect him as one of my own until this matter can be solved in the pack's council." Tambyn, said, reasonably. "I must follow our laws."

He reached out towards Harry. "It can not be resolved in any other way. He must come with us." Tambyn insisted.

"You have heard the words of our king. The Chosen stays with the pride." Amrys responded, feeling Lucius shaking with rage behind him.

Tambyn was shaking his head. "I have no choice but to enforce our laws." He said, almost sadly. Reaching his hand out for Harry again.

Harry had had enough. He hissed, fangs growing, fur bursting out all over his body, claws sprang out of his large paws. He spoke with the last human voice he had as he changed. 

"Get away from me." He snarled.


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

 

"Perhaps, before we resort to physical measures, we might talk?" The velvet voice of Severus Snape cut through the tension. He wisely didn't put himself between the two groups and studiously avoided the bristling were-cat, but did move up so all could see him clearly. "Mr. Potter is a student here and thus was under our guardianship at the time he was attacked. Not that of Mr. Black's."

"That's a lie!" Sirius shouted, struggling more determinedly. Harry grrrr'd under his breath. Sirius continued. "He's mine!"

"Sirius!" Remus exclaimed. "This is not helping!"

"I will not give up my Chosen, Tambyn. As you would fight for your heir, I would fight for what is mine." Lucius Malfoy grated out. "Your laws are not my laws. He is a were-leopard and not a were-wolf. The laws he follows are ours."

"I whole-heartedly agree. Let us talk this through, my king. No need to escalate things now." Remus said, looking up at Tambyn. "It would hardly solve anything if there is a fight and the young man is injured. He seems prepared to object strenuously to going." He cast his eyes over to the ominously growling young-ling.

"The laws..." Tambyn began, brow furrowed. He kept to the laws that governed his people. He made no exceptions. The law gave the pack security, they knew what behavior was acceptable and what would result in punishment.

"Can not bind the were-leopards. Unless you agree to be bound by our laws? Equity? Parity?" Lucius said, expression grim, unyielding. He let one fang show as it lengthened in a less than subtle threat.

"I would give you a hostage to assure your Chosen's safety." Tambyn offered. He unbent enough to say more. "He will come to no harm while with us. I will give you my personal guarantee."

"No." Lucius said as the were-leopard-Harry crouched lower and arched its back, tail puffing out to astounding proportions, fur standing out all over his body. "He may be only a kitten, but he will do you serious injury if you try to take him. Of course you would have to come through all of us first, to get to him. He is of our pride and none shall take him from his pride."

"This one came into our Manor with the monsters and stole him from us, from his home." Graeme spit out, pointing a single claw at Sirius. "He can not be trusted. And our laws forbid we turn our Chosen over to you. He is our alpha's, and only our king can chose to give him up. My king has said he will not and so, the Chosen will remain with us."

"That is not yours to say, cat." Tambyn drew himself up.

"Perhaps we can all take a breath. And calm down?" Remus ventured, cautiously. Everyone turned to glare at him, except Severus Snape.

"As I said." Snape interjected into the temporary silence. "Mr. Potter was not under Mr.Black's guardianship. Therefore Mr. Black's consent, or lack of it is moot. Harry was attacked and *accidentally* turned. It was not planned or sanctioned. I believe the true intent was to kill him. So. We are left with the facts, he is a were-leopard. Malfoy, here, is the king of that group and thus Mr. Potter is subject to him. Or would you wish to open the can of worms as to which laws of the wizarding world should apply to both the pack and the pride?"

Tambyn looked over to the tall, slender man wearing the pride's clothing. He smelled human. "I do not like you. You do not smell right." He said. "What right have you to interfere in our business?"

"I am a professor employed by Hogwarts, thus I am one of those responsible for his welfare." Snape informed the giant man. He steadfastly refused to notice that they were all staring at him, the were-cat included. Harry's huge emerald eyes were big as saucers and he had momentarily stopped growling.

"I will assure you, professor, that he will not come to harm with us." Tambyn asserted. "I myself will see to it, he will be at my side, waking and sleeping."

"You will take him to your bed?" Amrys asked, suddenly.

"He is the mate of a king. I would do him the honor of taking him to my bed." Tambyn drew himself up, proud and regal. He stared down his long nose at the shorter blond.

"You want him for your own!" Graeme snarled, his eyes beginning the glow that preceded the change for him.

"I do not normally desire males." The wolf-king informed him haughtily. "But I will honor the mate of another king and allow him pleasure with me. All his needs will be seen to."

"No. Unless you wish to die for that pleasure. My Chosen is not gifted to any other. Not even a king." Lucius stated. 

Harry seemed to agree, his growling had resumed, the volume doubled. He arched up and snarled, baring all his teeth, making clear his displeasure with Tambyn's idea. He nearly hopped with fury, whiskers stiff with his outrage. His haunches tensed as he prepared to launch himself at the were-wolf and rake him with extended claws.

"Mr. Potter," Came the smooth voice, familiar from seven years of Potion's classes. "Don't be an ass. If you attack them, they will have you in their grasp. And if they can get their hands on you, they can apparate with you, to a destination more to their advantage than yours or ours."

Graeme, sensing the young man's indecision, to jump and fight, or to merely posture from afar...Grabbed a handful of thick dark fur and held on. 

Harry let out a deflated snarl as he felt the fingers fasten onto his coat. He whined. He'd really wanted to sink his teeth into the wolf. Just let them try to touch him....his teeth gleamed.


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

 

"Now. Please, everyone calm down. Harry. It is time to face this in human form, don't you think?" Remus said gently, with one arm still around his friend, Sirius, holding tight, more than aware what Sirius was capable of on impulse. "I beg you, my kings, don't let this get out of hand. Do not war over one young man."

"I will not let my Chosen be taken from me." Lucius stated with complete conviction, squaring his very broad shoulders, as he faced off with the even more massive Tambyn. Tambyn lowered his shaggy head and snarled.

"He should have been a wolf, my wolf and mine to bind to me. I wonder if you arranged for his change while Sirius was away, knowing he could not be yours any other way. You desired his power to use." Tambyn argued, eyes slitted with speculation and anger. "He has been a lycanthrope for less than a quarter of a year and already he is Chosen? I charge that you conspired with your sister to use the monster to change him. He is not rightfully yours."

"I had no part in his being turned. Your man Paulsen brought the boy to me at the behest of Hogwarts' Headmaster. Who then had custody of him. Until he was delivered to me, I had no knowledge that he had been turned." Lucius asserted angrily. A flush of outrage coloring his cheeks. Harry gazed up at him. He was magnificent, so kingly, so handsome.

"This, I can not believe. The evidence tells me otherwise." Tambyn shook his head, emphatically. "It is too convenient for the were-leopards. It can not be a coincidence. I certainly did not send Paulsen to you with the boy. I would not have permitted it."

The two kings returned each other's glares. Snape chanced stepping closer to Harry, going down on his knee to talk to the young-ling cat, who eyed him warily. He spoke low and urgently. The situation was escalating, a slow inevitable rise of tension and accusations that would result in a battle, here and now. It had to be defused and quickly.

"You can't talk if you remain a cat, Mr. Potter." Severus Snape said, reminding Harry of Dumbledore more than the Snape he recalled from his lessons. "This is one time you need to articulate your views clearly. And as soon as possible. As noble as it seems to a bloodthirsty young lycanthrope, a fight over yourself and your fate would be ill advised. Who among these men would you see die?"

Harry sat back on his haunches blinking. He looked up at Amrys and rowled.

"He has some difficulty returning to human form." Amrys offered, to the wizard, conveying Harry's meaning. "It normally takes hours for him to do it."

"Harry. You don't have hours. You have now." Snape insisted. "Many times in the past you said you couldn't do something until you had to. You must do this now." His dark eyes traveled over the two groups facing off against each other, hackles raised. "Now is *not* the time to fail."

Harry looked also. He saw the fiercely protective Graeme, the calm and yet ready to battle Amrys, he saw the tall regal form of the were-leopard king, Lucius, *his* own Chosen, the man he Chose to love. He tried to imagine one of them hurt seriously, or dead, and fighting was suddenly the last thing he wanted to do. 

His attention wandered over to the other defiant group. The were-wolves. To Tambyn who he was really not liking much at all, to Remus, who had sheltered and protected him and taught him a lot about DADA, had been a friend of sorts, almost an uncle or older brother those times when the much traveled Sirius was gone. Then he looked at Sirius. His godfather. A man he loved, in a different way than he loved Lucius, but one he couldn't bear to see hurt. Merlin! He had no choice.

Tambyn was the only one Harry didn't care about, in fact he wanted to hurt the man himself. He tried for half a second to understand where the king of the wolves was coming from, his point of view, deciding it was too much to ask of himself at the moment. Everyone else, even Snape, who he had always mistrusted; Harry didn't want to see any of them hurt.

He nodded his furry head. He had to change back to deal with this. But, then he was stumped. All the men in the room were watching him. And he had no idea what to do. Talk about performance anxiety, he thought. He looked from face to face for help in solving his dilemma.

"Take a deep breath, Harry. It is just like any other spell. Visualize what you want, and go there." Remus offered from across the room. Snape smiled a tight little smile of approval.

Harry nodded again and moved so the members of the pride were between himself and the were-wolves, then he sat down and concentrated. Be human, he thought. Be human, now. You must be human. And that was all it took. He felt the change back flow over him effortlessly. 

And he was human. In a tattered nightshirt. Sitting on Remus Lupin's floor. With everyone's eyes on him. Most of the eyes pleased and impressed. Sirius' pain filled, telling Harry as clearly as speech that the older man felt betrayed, felt Harry had rejected him. And the gaze of the were-wolf king. They frightened Harry. The were filled with a consuming hunger. And lust.


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

 

Mantheer was worried. He lay one hand over Draco's brow. The fever was growing despite the potions Professor Snape had left for Draco to drink. He had poured them down the boy's throat precisely on time in exactly the right amounts. But, Draco had developed a fever that was rising rapidly. Mantheer had grown increasingly concerned. Especially when he could not contact the Potion's Master, or the king, the second, or the third. None of them knew of Draco's deterioration. 

Kaithas had come to assess the situation. He cast his healing spells and for a short while Draco had rested. He had not improved. It was plain there was more than simple healing needed here. Lycanthropes healed well, quickly, often in minutes if they changed forms. Kaithas' skills were tailored to the group he treated most often. Not to a human. He was not what Draco needed.

Finally, Yaji had taken off to find the professor, Kaithas in tow. Mantheer refused to leave Draco's side. He undressed and climbed into the furs with him, holding him close as he shivered. He'd washed the wounds, soaking them in the king's bathing pool, he thought the soaking seemed to help, but it did not heal him completely. The youth had slept for a time, now he was stirring restlessly once more. All was not well. Mantheer would not relax until Snape was found, and the Mother was cured.

Draco let out a tiny moan of discomfort, tossing and turning. Mantheer leaned down, stroking his face.

"What is it?" He rumbled deep in his broad chest. "Are you in pain? Am I hurting you?"

"C-c-c-cold." Draco stuttered, teeth chattering. Mantheer pulled the furs over him, though it was too hot in the room already. He reached over for a glass of water. Held it to Draco's mouth.

"Drink." The water was cool, but not chilly, Draco drank it gratefully, teeth rattling the edge. He was very thirsty. Mantheer set the empty glass aside. Smoothing the sweat damp hair from the young man's flushed face. He gently licked the soft skin. Seeking to provide comfort. Draco was burning hot to the touch. 

Mantheer gathered him up, headed for the bathing pool. It would clean out the wounds and reduce his temperature. It would have to suffice until help arrived.

 

Kaithas' scan had located Snape back at Hogwarts. He and Yaji had gone to the office of the Headmaster. The urgency of their mission meant they could not shun his help. He had mercifully listened and rapidly concluded that Snape was the answer. 

Dumbledore, covered neck to floor in his voluminous, violently colored robes led the two were-leopards swiftly to the rooms of Remus Lupin and inside. The door, barred against all intrusion, could not keep the old wizard at bay. He waved his wand as they approached and the wards all faded away, the door creaking open.

Everyone in the room whirled around, fangs bared if they had them. Dumbledore raised his wand in warning and every man in the room took a step backwards from the implied threat, with the single exception of Severus Snape. Graeme interposing himself between the new threat and the Chosen.

"Gentlemen. You have an emergency." The elderly man said, looking from face to face over the rim of his glasses. "I suggest you postpone this discussion until another time. Kaithas." He nodded at the Seer and turned on his heel, moving down the hall and back to his office. They watched him go, then whirled back to what they had been doing before, staring suspiciously at each other.

Yaji immediately assessed the situation, interposed himself between his fellow pride members and the were-wolves. He flexed his arms, showing off his massive, well honed physique, even not knowing exactly what had happened in the room, he sensed when a display was needed. He was nearly as large as Tambyn and he had many more years of fighting under his belt. He could not be dismissed lightly as an opponent. Not even by a king.

The shift of strength in the room was palpable. Tambyn would not risk an attack now. He could not win a physical confrontation. Before, despite the numbers, there had been a slim chance of success. He growled in frustration. He was beginning to think of Harry as one of his wolves. His to have by right, to possess and to protect from the greedy were-leopards who had snatched him unfairly from his destiny. Harry Potter, in Tambyn's view, should have been a were-wolf, no question about it. The boy was clever, spirited and above all courageous.

The one of the new were-leopards was a Seer. Tambyn watched the man thoughtfully. The Seers were outside the usual ranking of dominance. They were men and women apart, no wise king challenged them lightly. 

The Seer went to the side of Professor Snape speaking urgently. The Potion's Master seemed caught in a quandary. He looked at the young-ling, Harry, asked more questions of the Seer, then appeared to make a decision. After a quick word to Lucius, he left the room at a run. 

The presence of the Seer had given Tambyn an inspiration. He growled louder to draw attention to himself. Once everyone was looking his way, he spoke.

"I will take this matter before the Seer's Council." He said decisively. 

"It is not a matter for the Seers." Lucius raised his brows. In his opinion the pack had no claim, and it was not a matter of law.

"It *is* a question of law. Is the law followed by his guardian, a member of my pack paramount, or is the law of the leopard's pride, of which he should never have been a member." Tambyn disagreed. "I will ask for their ruling."

"What is he talking about?" Harry murmured to the two men flanking him. "Why can't I just say I want to go with the pride and Lucius? That should be enough for all of you. I am old enough to make my own decisions."

"You are still a kitten." Amrys said to him, pulling him against his body in a firm hug. Harry squirmed, but didn't pull away. Graeme diverted his attention from the offended rebuttal he was about to deliver to Amrys.

"The Seer's Council. They decide on all matters of law, they are the final arbiters on such matters." Graeme ground out. "Their rulings can not be denied, nor appealed. They must be obeyed." Harry frowned harder, Amrys' ruffling of his hair doing little to soothe him. 

Tambyn pinned the Seer with his stern gaze. "You, Seer, will you convey my claim to the Council, as you are bound by honor to do?"

Kaithas was surprised to have the request made by one not of his pride. He looked serious. "What is your grievance, wolf?"

"The boy," Tambyn pointed to Harry. "He was meant to be a wolf, not a leopard. His guardian lays claim to him, as do I. It is his destiny to be were-wolf. I seek the Council's ruling on the matter. And that they will remove the taint from him so he may be changed into a wolf. As was always meant to be."

Kaithas considered the near order from the wolf-king. His eyes narrowed. That explained the atmosphere of violence filling the room. He shook his head. "I cannot, not and serve my pride. He is truly Chosen to my king. Have your own Seer serve you in this."

"Very well." Tambyn acquiesced, reluctantly. "You will not block me?"

"It is the right of any lycanthrope to seek a ruling on a matter of law, when the law is the basis of the question. I am not sure I see the reason for your claim, but I do not deny you your right to approach them." Kaithas said blandly. "I believe the Chosen was fated to be where he is now."

"No." Sirius called from the other side of the room. "He was meant to be with us. So I can protect him. He belongs to the wolves. You'll soon see, Harry. Come with us, I will show you." Sirius was still struggling against the hold his king and Remus had on him.

Harry was growing agitated. He shook his head, avoiding looking at his godfather, hearing Remus' calming voice trying to bring Sirius under control.

"Why is he doing this? I mean, I understand Sirius, he is my godfather, he wants me to be with him. But Tambyn? I don't..." Harry let his voice fade on the inquiry.

Graeme looked down at him. "Do you not? He is a king. He seeks power for himself, for his kingdom, for his people. Our king Lucius seeks power, watches for it, opportunities to add to his base. All kings seek the same. It is only their method of attaining power that differs."

Harry stared. "I can't believe you are saying that. He wants to force me to go with him! He wants to have sex with me."

"In time he will be a great king." Amrys said from his place next to Harry, not denying what Harry said. He put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "He has nothing against you. He merely looks for what will enhance his rule. He sets his sights high, and goes after what he wants without hesitation. He would bind you to his pack with his own flesh as anchor."

"How can forcing someone into his pack help his rule? How can raping me help his cause?" Harry seethed. All these men were difficult to understand, not just the werewolves. How could they admire Tambyn? 

Graeme shrugged. Amrys rubbed Harry's back. Lucius came to stand next to them, sweeping Harry up into his arms. Harry sqeaked in surprise.


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

 

Lucius lifted Harry up into his arms, embracing him with a fierceness the young man didn't expect, but reveled in. He tugged off the last tatters of the nightshirt, flinging them aside. Yaji took off his outer robe and Lucius wrapped it around his Chosen, glaring at the others, the were-wolves, who had looked at his love. Harry gulped. He knew what the look in Lucius' eyes meant.

His king was back to ignoring the presence of the were-wolves, intent on his Chosen and reasserting his claim. Tambyn's challenge for Harry had angered him, a direct method of establishing his continued ownership was in order. He gently tasted Harry, teeth denting the tender flesh, not quite breaking the skin. Every bone in Harry's body melted. He shivered, arching into the bite, eyes drifting closed, heart pounding in his chest. Lucius growled. His. The Chosen was his. He licked at the sweet, succulent flesh.

"My king." Graeme whispered, interrupting. "Your son, Draco, we must attend to him." He reminded the man, who was showing his teeth to the wolves.

Lucius nodded once, still carrying Harry, he turned and left the rooms. The were-leopards followed their king and his Chosen. Yaji hissed at the stupefied were-wolves who were still in the room, still watching. Tambyn's face was furious.

Amrys led the way to the dungeon rooms. In less than one minute they had apparated back to the Manor and into the chambers of the king. Draco, flushed and restless lay tossing on the furs. 

Lucius set Harry down on his feet and approached his son, Harry close behind. Yaji had beat them all to the Mother of the heir's side. Severus Snape was in the midst of administering a potion, pausing to give them a withering glare.

"Stay out of my way." He snapped impatiently. "It is poison. Your guard has said that it was common for your sister to employ it. If I had been told of her inclinations, I would have looked for it, and started preventive treatment much sooner."

"The heir?" Draco gasped. "How is the baby?"

Amrys pushed his way through the crowd around the bed and crawled up next to Draco. He lay his cheek against the young man's belly and listened with his acute hearing, to the tiny life deep inside Draco's body. "He is with us." He said. And he stayed there, ear to the boy's stomach, monitoring the child inside.

Not even Snape tried to move him. He looked up at Lucius, who inclined his head. "He is the father, the Sire of the heir." The king confirmed. 

Snape was shocked at the degree of loss he felt. So, the were-leopard second was taken. Well, probably it was for the best. He concentrated on healing Draco. Envy was such a useless emotion. He'd managed to avoid it for most of his adult life. 

He was too old to change anyway, Snape thought. If not precisely happy, he was at least used to being celibate. No need to change that at this late date. He gave the paste he was mixing a few more stirs, then leaned forward and began to smear it on the wounds. It dried quickly, adhereing in protective sheets to the lacerations.

"How is he? How great is the risk to the child?" Lucius asked, pointedly.

"There is little risk now that I know what we are dealing with. If I had known earlier, there would have been no trouble at all. The poison is a common and not terribly lethal one. Easy to obtain and use for the unskilled," His voice was contemptous, "but it is very uncomfortable. Fevers and chills, cramping and occasionally vomiting if the diagnosis is not made in a timely manner. I must say, this sister of yours, I am glad not to have met her."

"She was a nasty piece of work." Graeme said, harshly. "She deserved to die. Even if she had only done this. But, she had many more crimes she was responsible for."

Snape sat back, scanned Draco with his wand and announced he was done with the treatment. "I will stay until he has shown improvement. I think it best to be certain there are no more surprises."

"Then it is time to move him to his room." Lucius said. "Get him settled down to rest. Yaji, Mantheer you will remain with him." Lucius waved his hand, watching as his son was moved. 

Yaji gathered Draco up in his arms and carried him down the long hall and to his own rooms.

The young man was settled on the bed, the fire lit. The furs were re-arranged and Mantheer left to bring food for their night meal. They fed him by hand, Snape noticed. As parents tending a child, only not...exactly...that. Snape blinked. There was a much more adult reverence, sensual appreciation to the care. He looked down, fighting his urge to blush. Not parent and child at all.

Amrys had come with them and now curled up, once more resting his cheek on Draco's tummy, listening to the distant heartbeat of the heir, his child. He lay upside down, so his cheek was over Draco's belly button, and his golden blond hair, mingled with the youth's pale silver/gold pubic hair. Amrys seemed perfectly comfortable having the soft, bulky genitals resting against the top of his head as he listened to the steady beat. And Draco made no protest at the intimate touch. 

Severus felt a sweat break out over his body. Very unprofessional he chided himself. 

They were stunningly beautiful together. The icily pale youth and the strong, exquisitely formed man. The swell of those shoulders could steal your breath away. The long fingered hand spread on one slim hip, securing it. The long lashes, dark gold resting on the tanned cheek in a sweet cresent. All of it paling next to the full lips, slightly parted, that drew the professor's eye. He was powerless to look away. He nearly groaned his frustration. Why, oh why now? Why this man? Why the man Draco was bound to? A man soon to be a father. A man certainly not interested in a old, long nosed, decicdedly irritable and irritatingly stubborn Potion's Master. 

He moaned silently.

It was only hours later that he was able to relax, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the dozing were-leopards, and struggling to stay awake. Laying in front of him, Amrys slept, ear still at Draco's stomach, Draco dozed as did the huge guardians. Both of whom opened an eye when Snape got up , or moved, or reached out to assess Draco during the night.

At last Severus was driven by fatigue to rest his eyes for a moment. He never noticed when he sank down onto the bed and curled up behind Amrys to sleep, his nose pressed into the musky, wonderfully masculine scented, golden hair. He snuggled happily, never noticing that their limbs became entangled, or that he was tightly spooned with the first male he had ever been this close to. He sighed, tension ebbing away. He slept.

Snape woke to an almost inaudible thumping. Thump, thump, thump, it was coming from behind him. He could sense it better than he could hear it. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder. He frowned, more than half asleep. 

"Just when," he thought muzzily, "Did I grow a tail?" It was a tail after all, that was thumping contentedly on the bed behind him. And it did appear to be attached somehow to him.

Severus Snape blinked at his fluffy, furry, golden blond tail. It was a nice tail, as tails went. He just couldn't remember when he'd gotten one. Then he felt the tiny movement between his legs, a flexing, subtle, almost not noticeable. Yet, impossible to ignore. When men felt anything down there, they noticed. 

He opened his eyes all the way. He was up against a furry back, his hand was trapped under the were-leopard's arm, resting over its sturdy chest, the soothing rhythm of its heart beating under his palm. Warm and secure. He felt a rush of...pleasure.

He finally realized it was *not* his tail, but Amrys' tail that thumped behind him after threading its way between his legs, very close to his personal parts. Parts which had responded most enthusiastically. He was erect, pressed into the lower back of the were-leopard in front of him.

Snape began to carefully extricate himself. The last thing he needed was to antagonize the very male, very dangerous leopard with his unwelcome attentions. A leopard who's body and heart belonged to his patient, Draco Malfoy, soon to be Mother of the heir, this were-cat's child. 

He slid back lifting the leg that was on top and reaching down to move the thick, soft, muscular tail out from where it shouldn't be. He almost jumped out of his skin at the deep throated rumble of a purr that began as he wrapped his fingers around the furry extremity.

He froze, feeling uncharacteristic uncertainty, and...excitement. His heart raced in his chest, he was hyper-aware of his breath moving in and out of his lungs, his skin was tingly. Amrys arched, the message absolutely unambiguous. Pet. Me. Now.

Experimentally, Snape ran his supple fingers through the thick fur, marveling at the superior texture. The purr grew louder, richer. The tail, still lodged between his thighs, thumped harder. With predictable results on his own body. He wondered, desperate to divert his attention, did cats wag their tails as dogs did? He concluded that this one, at least, did. He continued, massaging up the animal's flanks, encouraged by the pleasurable sounds the cat was making, the long, sinuous stretches, the kitty-twitches. He was fascinated. He couldn't stop. Not even knowing it was wrong of him to touch Draco's lover, slowed the strokes.

The muscles under the fur-coat were large, strong, flexing in counter-point to his ministrations. The big body was limp with ecstasy, massive head lolling back against Severus. He caught a glimpse of gleaming fangs, eyes that were half closed in drowsy bliss. And nothing could have halted his guilty hands from seeking more. He sank them into the cat's ruff, into Amrys' neck fur and scratched, sliding up behind the proud, triangular ears. The body in front of his shuddered, the sound that came out was as close to a human moan as Snape had ever heard from an animal. Uh, *were-animal*, he corrected himself. This was driving him mad. However, stopping was out of the question.

He stroked the magnificent head, giving in to the urge to touch the long, stiff whiskers. They were hard, inflexible shafts, and they moved forward as he touched them, rubbing the rounded muzzle, over the broad nose, and to the warm, wet nose. He let his finger tips graze the wetness, then moved up, stroking with his precise, learned touch, around the closed eyes of the great cat, up over the wide forehead.

It was impossible for Snape not to push his face into that silky fur. Breathing deep to fill his senses with the musky scent that he recognized as the pride's second. Amrys smelled like Amrys in either of his forms. The scent drove his body to the edge, he was achingly aroused, and horribly conflicted. He clung to the big body, forbidding himself to do more.

Amrys felt the body behind him go still. Smelled the uncertainty. He turned, the change flickering over him as he did, so that by the time he faced the black haired man, he was also in human guise.

"I must apologize," Snape managed to force out of his tight throat. "Draco..."

Amrys kissed the man. He licked his lips, and nipped at them, sliding his broad flat tongue over them, into the warmth of the wizard's mouth. Herbs, and the taste of the man himself, pleasant, arousing. His big hands slid down to grasp the slender hips, pulling them closer, fitting them together. The pants, had to go. A judicious application of a single, razor sharp claw took care of that. They hung in tatters, the hips now bare, free to his fingers to explore, he rubbed his palms over smooth, wonderfully smooth skin, pale as milk.

Severus Snape tried to regain control, tried to breathe calmly, tried to finish his sentence, tried to tell Draco's man that he didn't, shouldn't, mustn't do this. But speech was so overrated, he could do without it, he thought, as he melted into the kiss. Slippery, wet. Perfect pressure, the suckling on his own tongue, the slipping of the wet touches as the kiss went on and on. 

Amrys bit his cheek, his mouth, soft bites, that sent a thrill down his spine to...well...there. His erection surged, leaped, almost exploded, just from a kiss. He groaned.

He was abruptly spilled onto his back, straddled by the bigger, stronger, naked, magnificent golden were-leopard, the intense eyes locking onto his. They stared at each other, measuringly. Snape panting, Amrys noticing. 

Then they were closer, cheek to cheek, lips brushing. Severus gave in and let his hands touch the deep chest, never had he seen a more perfect sculpture, this one all the more wondrous being in living flesh. With frantic hunger he explored, his mouth taken, ravaged, his erection, unashamedly naked, pressed up to the throbbing, thrilling one of the man moving on top of him, sliding their bodies together. He couldn't breathe, but all in all, he'd rather give up breathing than the kiss that was stealing his reason. His head spun.

The throat clearing was repeated a second, then a third time, before Snape registered it at all. Then he tore himself away from the kiss and stared at the half amused face of Draco next to his. He sprang back, managing in a feat of near magic to escape from under the body he wanted to have so damn badly. He shivered at the draft, looking down in horror at his bared body, his impossible to miss erection. He met his former student's light blue eyes in absolute humiliation. 

"Draco, I am so sorry." He said and fled. His hands barely managing to hold the torn cloth over his privates.

Draco, feeling vastly improved from the night before, exchanged a wide-eyed look with Amrys. 

"What was that about?" Draco complained, plaintively. "I just wanted to rib him a little."

Amrys got up out of the bed, ran a soothing hand over Draco's mussed hair, and followed the fleeing man. This, was not over. He wanted the man. And Amrys was set on getting him.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems unlikely I will upload all the remaining chapters in one go. But I will do my best. The fic was written in 2004-2005, around the same time as my other HP fic.

Chapter 56

 

Lucius Malfoy was livid. In his hand he held the scroll announcing the arrival of the Seer's Council in only four hours. There was little time to prepare the pride for the visit and as for Harry, he'd have preferred to have weeks if not months to try to make him understand what this invasion meant.

Tambyn had not wasted any time in presenting his claim to the council. Lucius was going to have to endure the Seers. Make it clear that Harry belonged here. He was not a were-wolf by heritage after all. Sirius Black was his godfather, not his father. He shook his head. And for what reason should the Council expect were-cats to acknowledge were-wolf laws? 

Lucius stood, slamming the scroll onto his desk and stormed out of the room. Members of the pride fairly leapt out of his way as he strode down the hallway. It was not so simple as logic. Worryingly the Seers found connections that ordinary lycanthropes didn't see. Regrettably, the few times he'd encountered them, or been around to hear their decisions, he'd been shocked by the assessments, and yet, he'd eventually understood that they were right. He wanted to not be shocked by this decision.

He kept up the pace, his long stride eating up the distance between himself and his Chosen. Harry was the most important part of all of this. He had to play his part flawlessly.

 

Harry let out a scream when he was seized from behind and lifted off of his feet, his cup clattering to the floor. He sensed almost at once who it was. And if that weren't enough the view of the back-end below his head would have told him, oh, and the long, curly hair. Graeme was bearing him out of the library and down the wide corridor.

"Hush. The king is in need of you. The Seers will arrive this evening." Graeme patted his thigh, holding him firmly, as he made his way towards their destination, not at all inconvenienced by his burden. Harry stabilized himself by placing hands on Graeme's waist.

"I can walk, you know." Harry said dryly. Hanging over Graeme's shoulder was not uncomfortable, just undignified. The muscle padded shoulder provided some cushioning. Graeme had a habit of doing little things like this, probably seeing a chance to teach him the proper place of a kitten, Harry thought sourly. He was learning to not mind it so much. Being touched. Being handled. At one time, not long ago, he would have fought this kind of handling. Now he endured it. And, honestly, at times he enjoyed the attention.

"If you walk then I can not carry you. I want to carry you." Graeme said reasonably. His silky hair flowed over Harry's bare arms and face. Nice hair, really soft, it smelled pretty good, Harry thought.

"Graeme. What will the Seers do?" He asked. That was what was on his mind after all. And it probably had something to do with this little caveman routine. Carrying him off to have a talk. He could sense it. He nearly sighed before he caught himself. If he sighed, Graeme would know he'd figured it out. He needed the tiny advantage that Graeme not knowing provided.

"They will rule on whether you may remain with us, if they discover it is a point of law that determines that." The third told him. Harry felt the tensing of the big muscles underneath his stomach.

"Law? Is it a point of law? What law could possibly cover this kind of thing?" Harry wondered, aloud. "Ins't this kind of unusual? What is going to happen when they get here?"

"Your godfather has laid claim to you. His position, supported by were-wolf law, is that his permission was needed to change you. He did not give it. Therefore, accident or not, we have no right to you. Further, Tambyn questions if there was an accident at all. He thinks your change was arranged, not an accident, no matter the evidence."

"How can that be? Professor Trelawny was behind the attacks!" Harry protested, bracing himself as Graeme wove in and out of a small crowd. Harry heard Fred and George laughing, but in the distance, not at his position, he determined.

"Your Divination Professor worked in collusion with Lucius' sister." Graeme reminded the boy. "If one is not familiar with her history of treachery, it is easy to believe the attack was arranged."

Harry stayed silent, his confusion stopping the flow of words until Graeme spoke again.

"When the seers arrive you will remain by the king's side. You will not do anything that he does not command. I will watch over you. You will do as I tell you. The Seers will not tolerate your sharp tongue, kitten. If you can not control it I will bind your mouth and silence it for you." There was a warning in his tone, one Harry knew was not an empty threat. He swallowed hard.

"Can they do that? Make me go? Force me to sleep with Tambyn?" Harry asked, not managing to stop the tremor from finding a way into his voice.

"Yes." The tall man said. "They have the power and the right to make that kind of declaration."

"I don't want to." Harry said. "I want to stay with Lucius. Here. Does that count for anything?"

"I know what you want. But they will rule as they see true. The law means more to them than your feelings. They are apart from the emotion and desires of the situation." He seemed to pause in consideration after that statement.

"What?" Harry asked. Meaning, what has made you doubt those words? Graeme didn't respond.

"I won't go. They can't make me." Harry said after a few minutes. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

"And how do you think you can stop them?" Graeme asked half curious, half skeptical. "I am going to show you where we will meet with them."

"Do I have to be there?" Harry grumbled. He'd found that bracing his hands on Graeme's hips worked better than at his waist. But...it was disturbing in an odd way to feel the play of those slender, strong hips moving under his hands. Oh, crap, not a good time for this to come up.

"Yes." The man said in return. "You will be there."

"I just won't go." Harry said to Graeme's back. Graeme patted his butt. "I mean it Graeme. If they tell me to go to Tambyn, I won't. Don't think I'm your little kitten saying this. I mean it. I'll..."

Graeme slapped him, harder. "You will behave for now, kitten." He ordered. He swung Harry around dizzyingly and plopped him down on the fur layered rock throne that was the centerpiece of the Arena. "They will apparate here. You will be at Lucius' feet. Obedient. With Troy and Fred. The other kittens will be nearby but the three of you will be at his feet. And you will obey him. Whatever he asks of you."

Harry scowled. He wanted to be the only one at Lucius' feet. It was bad enough to know his lover kept two more kittens at his beck and call but he didn't want it displayed so obviously. That would make it seem as if he was OK with it.

Graeme took Harry's face in his hand, holding him firmly, but not painfully. His dark blue eyes bored into Harry's emerald ones. His thumb smoothed over Harry's cheek. His expression was unyielding.

"It is a reflection on the entire pride. How you obey your king, the man who has named you Chosen. If he can not control you here, in the Arena, before outsiders, then what claim can he truly have on you? What asset are you to him? So. No defiance today. None. If he bids you to do a thing you will do it. No. Matter. What. That. Is. Do you understand me?" His voice rang with both menace and promise of dire consequences. "My king has my loyalty and if any seeks to harm him, even his Chosen, I will protect him."

Harry gulped. "I won't hurt him. I love him."

Graeme smirked. "And if he asked you to go to the bed of one of the Seers? To give them the pride's hospitality, as is our custom for long centuries?"

Harry flushed, brows drawing down. "That is not the same...."

"Yes. It. Is." Graeme snarled. "If he asks it of you there will be a good reason. And you will obey. For the honor of the pride and your king."

"No." Harry said. Gritting his teeth, his face stony and stubborn. "I won't. I won't let anyone else do that to me. Only Lucius."

"God. You have not learned. Not a god-damned thing." Graeme spit out, thrusting Harry away from himself, hard. Harry fell sprawling back on the throne in a flailing tangle of limbs.

 

Lucius stopped outside the doorway into the Arena. Listening to Graeme's words, and to Harry's. He shook his head. The kitten was stubborn, loyal, ultimately honorable. He just couldn't find a way to do what was required of him. What might be required of a king's Chosen. Lucius cursed. It was his fault. He had not made certain Harry learned. Harry was not of the pride because of how differently he had been treated.

Lucius strode into the Arena, startling the two occupants. 

"Harry. Graeme. With me. Now." He ordered, the frown on his face not inviting questions.

Once he was in his private rooms he turned to them. Pointing to the bed. "No arguments, Harry. Undressed and up there." He watched as Harry hesitated. Graeme glared at the hesitation, baring his fangs. 

Lucius sighed. He needed more time than he had. Much more time.


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

 

Lucius moved up onto the bed. Harry took one look at him and dropped his gaze at seeing the fire in the other man's eyes. He took a deep, cleansing breath while he prepared himself for what ever was coming.

"On your belly." Again the command was not harsh, but impossible to disobey. Harry stretched out, head turned towards his king, very aware of the other man, Graeme, still in the room. Harry saw Lucius transfer his gaze to Graeme. He nodded his gleaming sliver/gold haired head. The bed dipped and Harry shot forward, going for the far side of the furs. He was not going to allow that to happen.

Lucius' stopped him. A big hand, an unbreakable grip at his ankle, dragging him back. Lucius' silvery-grey gaze met his. The shared look somehow too intense, as if Lucius wanted inside of him, inside of his mind, his thoughts. 

"Do you deny my claim? Do you defy me?" Lucius asked, almost conversationally. But Harry heard the undertone. The warning not to lie, to be utterly and completely truthful. He bit his lip.

"No. I don't deny it. But I thought we agreed...." Lucius' hand covered his mouth. Harry froze in place, green eyes gone huge.

"You will answer yes and no." Lucius said. Then removed his hand. Harry's lips were pressed tightly together, fighting the urge to speak. "Will you obey me?"

Harry frowned. Yes and no weren't adequate to reply to the question. His eyes begged. Lucius set him aside, freeing him from the hold that had restrained him, stood up, moved away.

"I renounce our bond. Take him away from me." Lucius said quietly in a hollow voice to Graeme, ignoring the youth, as if Harry was already gone. Harry lay on the bed for a split second then launched himself after the tall man. Instead of Lucius he met Graeme in mid leap.

"No!" He screamed. "You can't! It is not fair!" But, Lucius never stopped, disappearing out the door. Graeme held him tight, defeating all his attempts to follow. Harry screamed again. "No! Why?!"

"Stop it!" Graeme hissed. "It is what you have said you wanted. You are Unmarked, Unclaimed and Unchosen. You can go to your godfather if you wish. Or to the wizarding world. The king no longer holds you here. He will tell the Seers when they arrive."

"NO!" Harry shouted again. "I don't want that! I never said I did! I just don't want to follow those laws you keep talking about, the ones that make no sense!"

"So go. If you don't wish to follow our laws, then leave here. You have made it clear that you will not obey our king. Then be banished, you shall never have to follow our rules any longer." The copper haired man said.

Harry was paler than milk. He couldn't breathe. There was a crushing pain in his chest. "I thought he loved me," he said in a tiny broken voice. "My God, I thought he loved me." He dug into Graeme's arms with hard, desperate fingers.

"Idiot." Graeme said. "He did and *does* love you. He will always love you. But, you have rejected him. He is a king. He cannot accept your constant defiance and rule. The pride is his life, his life belongs to us. You have refused him, belittled him, defied him in front of his people, and now you claim you are the injured party." Graeme shook his head.

Harry wept, resuming his struggle to get up and find Lucius. "He can't do this! I love him. I won't leave."

"Listen to me. It is done. It is over. Return to your human life. Don't look back. Time will heal the pain. You are young." Graeme tried to offer what comfort he could. He did not let the boy up or permit him to follow.

"I can't. I can't leave. I love him. I can't live without him." Harry cried out.

"Stop." Graeme turned his face, and looked him in the eye. "No more dramatics. If you can not live without him, why have you done this to him? This is your choice, you have made it over and over. He has given you every chance he could and more."

"I just wanted him to..." The young man began, then had to halt, his eyes overflowing with bitter, salty tears. Throat too tight to finish.

"To what? To stop being my king? Amrys' king? Mantheer's king? Tanith's king? Draco's king? Which of us should give up our king so he can change until you are satisfied with him?"

"You are trying to make me change! How is that different?" Harry sobbed. "I never asked to be a were-leopard."

"We did not change you. Have you forgotten that?" The third asked more gently than before. Holding the destroyed young man in his arms. "We would have talked to you, told you what to expect. Most often when a human is changed without sanction, they are killed. They are not put through this. And discipline is maintained. The pride is protected."

Harry screamed again. And again. And again. Graeme licked the tears off his face. Murmured to him. Held him.


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

 

Lucius walked as far as his desk and collapsed into the chair. He wished he could go further, out of earshot, but his legs wouldn't bear his weight. He had to stay here and listen to the heart-wrenching sobs of the boy who had been his Chosen. He tried to stand again. He was stronger than this.

He heard every word Graeme was saying, all that Harry said. He heard it and he felt pain working its way through him. Was he wrong? Had he lived his life based on an assumption of nobility, or honor that was wrong? Had he done wrong by not killing the boy in the first place? Had he been motivated by something more than selfishness, or was all of this because he wanted something he did not deserve, was not meant to have? Was this situation all caused by his own greed, his need to possess the boy he had called his Chosen, at the expense of the pride?

He fought his own tears, but lost, he sobbed every bit as hard as the young-ling in his rooms laying in Graeme's arms. He was to blame. He wanted love. He had manufactured and forced it. He had not allowed it to develop naturally in its own time. He had wanted, desired and taken. And he expected it to work. Love blew up in his face. Love tore out his heart. Love ruined him with its burning touch. Yet he would give nearly everything to have it back. Not everything, but so very close.

He dropped his head onto his hands. He was king. There was no one ready to follow in his place. He had to rule, until the child his son was carrying was old enough to rule. Then he might step aside. Then he might have another choice. Then maybe, if the god's decreed it, he would have time for love. But not one like this. He didn't understand how this pain could fail to kill. Yet, he was alive, breathing, hurting.

In the room Harry screamed, again, again, again. Lucius felt each like a knife through his belly. He fell to his hands and knees at the first scream, the second had him heaving, vomiting into his waste can, by the third he lifted his head and howled his torture and his pain to the skies.

Every lycanthrope in the Manor stopped what they were doing. Eyes wide and horrified. 

Amrys started towards the king's rooms. 

Kaithas, from the other end of the Manor where the Seer's Council had just apparated in looked up and felt every drop of his blood freeze at the ringing sound.

Severus Snape, sitting at Draco's side, felt his hair stand on end. Draco fell back into his cushioned furs. Mantheer and Yaji both reaching for the boy. 

The sound went on and on. Anguish without end. The first Seer put his hand out to touch Kaithas. 

"There is such pain here. Loss, and failure. What has happened? Why does the pride's king mourn?" His voice was a mere whisper of sound, roughened, as if forced out through a damaged throat. His veil shifted in the windless room, carried on unseen currents, currents fueled by the king's lament.

Kaithas opened his mouth to answer, but no answer was there. None he could give.

"Take me to him. Your pride is losing its king." The Seer said, motioning for the others to stay back.

Kaithas felt a fear greater than any he had ever known rip through him. Lucius was his king. The only one he remembered as an adult within the pride. All he knew of kingship, he had learned by watching and admiring the man. He had seen the sacrifice and love Lucius had for every person he ruled. They could not be losing him, not now. The Seer's touch reminded him where they were. 

"I will lead you." The seer said in his ruined voice. Kaithas let the man guide him through the halls. "If you can not find the way."

Amrys burst through the group of lycanthropes gathering outside the king's rooms. Even now they would not go inside without the king's leave. He ran inside. Lucius was on the floor, howling, arms wrapped around his stomach. Amrys tore the sheilding arms aside, looking for a wound that was not there. He grabbed the blond hair to either side of Lucius' face, shook him.

"My king! My king! What is wrong? What has happened?" Amrys fought to keep his tone level and in control, but it rose with every question. The howl from the king's throat grew and grew. 

A scream tore out of the inner rooms. Amrys leaped to his feet facing the doorway, the change rippling over his back, his fur bristling on end. He stayed human but for the fur on his back, the clawed paws, ready to defend his king. No one came out, he charged in to the sleeping room, into the place he took his own rest for the majority of his life.

Graeme was on the bed curled around the small dark haired boy from which the cries echoed. He lifted his own shocked eyes to Amrys'. This was not expected. This was too much more. This was death.

"Where is Lucius?" Graeme asked, choked. "Find him!"

Amrys wasted no time on speech, he whirled returning to his king, lifted Lucius into his arms, bearing him back into the room and up onto the furs. The sharp scent of vomit filled his sensitive nostrils. He cringed, but lowered the man to the bed next to the sobbing boy. He wiped away the sour fluids. The second and the third looked at each other. Not knowing what else to do. 

Harry cried out and Lucius flinched, trying to turn away, succeeding only in burrowing into his second's embrace, claws sinking deep. He let out a mournful howl, thankfully spent, not so loud and penetrating, but still rich and filled with pain. Harry convulsed in Graeme's arms, writhing at the sound. Raking at Graeme's skin.


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

 

"Push them together if they are too stubborn to find one another on their own." The raspy voice said. 

Amrys and Graeme startled at the intrusion, whirling to confront the unknown man standing next to the bed. A stranger in full veil and robes stood nearby, clothing whipping around his head and body as if he stood in a gale. He waved a hand at them. "It is their destiny to be joined. So just shove them together." He clapped his hands sharply.

Graeme was first to recover. He slid Harry out of his own arms and up against Lucius. Harry glommed onto the man like a leech burying his face in the wide chest. He stopped crying. Lucius stopped shaking, he sighed as if from the depths of his soul. He held the smaller body tight.

"Why have you done this?" The Seer asked. "You know better. Lucius Malfoy, king of the were-leopard's pride. You know that you can not cast aside a true Chosen, not one you are bound to in truth. Yet, you got frustrated, hurt, you tried to do just that. Foolish. Anger doesn't sever this kind of bond." The veiled man leaned closer as he spoke. The edge of his veils whipped out over the men in the bed, finding Harry's face, caressing it like a hand.

Lucius buried his own face in the raven locks, squeezing his eyes shut. He did not reply. Harry, clutching him, inhaling his scent, made no effort to answer. His hands were full of silken, shining sliver hair, mouth open on the bared skin of the king's chest.

"Who did you fall in love with, silly kitten?" The Seer's voice was just for Harry, it stroked him, asked, then made it OK to reply, taking a way the vise that was closing down the young man's throat only an instant previous.

"With Lucius." Harry muttered, not believing he was really being held. He kept looking up to reassure himself. He felt someone behind him, petting him, he knew that person, also loved him, but the one he needed, the one he'd lost, he was here again. And Harry wouldn't, couldn't let him go.

"With the cat who is king." The Seer agreed, softly. "Why try to change him then, if he is the one you fell in love with?"

"I can't share him!" Harry exclaimed. Trying to press himself closer to the big body wanted so badly.

"He is a king, there will always be others demanding his time, his attention, his love. Do they deserve him any less?" The voice was all around him, not threatening but impossible to avoid. The veils floated over him.

"I...I don't want him to sleep with them. Have sex with them." Harry admitted. He had never tried to hide how he felt. He looked up and met Amrys' eyes over the shoulder of the king. Would he cast Amrys out of Lucius' bed if he could? No. Amrys belonged there. His presence was not troubling. He liked going to sleep surrounded with security and warmth. He liked having Graeme and Amrys with him and Lucius.

"It is his nature. The nature of *this* beast. He has been this way far longer than you have been alive, little kitten." The Seer seemed to agree, Harry heard encouragement in his tone. Harry panicked a little. "Why are you so afraid?"

"He is trying to change me!" Harry burst out. "He says he will give me away, that I can not say no."

"You don't know how to be what you are. You have changed. Into something entirely new. You are a were-leopard, not a human any longer. Not just a wizard. He was a king, still is a king. Do you see the difference? You are new. He is not." OK, so that made some sense, but still....

"They say I have to do everything they say." Harry whined just a little, hands holding hard, in case expressing his grievance might mean someone tried to pull Lucius out of his arms.

"Obey the laws." The Seer agreed. "The laws are the rules for living in the pride. They are your rules now, Harry. If you want to belong to the pride. If you want to stay here where you are surrounded by caring. If you want to stay where you will always be needed."

"But why...." Harry began.

"No. That question is not the one you need to ask. Ask, why not?"

"I am jealous of them. Of Troy, of Fred, a little, but mostly of Troy."

"So. This is about sex?"

"I want him to love me. Make love only to me." Harry asserted.

"Only you? He can love no one else?"

"No. That is not what I mean. He can love who he wishes, just not...have sex with them." The last words came out in a rush. "Just that one thing."

"Just that one thing? If he does that one thing, you will obey him? You will return to your place sleeping with the other kittens, you will submit to those more dominant than yourself?" The Seer inquired, curious.

"No. I can't. I am stronger than they are. I am not a kitten, not really. I fought..." He stopped abruptly. He hated it when others talked about his destiny and the defeat of Voldemort. As if it was the one thing and only thing he had been born to do. As if his usefulness was now over. Snuggling his flushed face into Lucius. The king ran a warm hand over his back, their hearts beat one next to the other. Harry could feel the pulsing beat through his chest. The Seer was silent for a time. 

Harry sank into the feel of Lucius. The strength, the power, the goodness, the man himself.

"Might makes right. Might means you have nothing else to learn?" The Seer said, as if pondering the question out loud.

"No!" Harry well remembered the dark wizard who had thought might was right. Who had offered him a place to rule by his side. Who had asked from him, everything, his value, his integrity, his loyalty, in exchange for power. For might. He shivered and felt warmth move closer to his back, felt a new touch on his cheek. Opened his eyes to Amrys' gentle touch on his face, the veils.

"He loves you." Graeme's voice whispered over the dampness on his face. Amrys ruffled his hair, and Lucius...Lucius held him tight. Graeme finished his thought. "And you love him."

"He won't want me! Not if he can have all of them!" Harry said, the words barely making it out of his constricted throat.

"He will always want you." The three voices spoke as one. 

"You are bound. Deep to the soul. You are his first and only Chosen. There will be none after you, not for this king. You need to be joined. He must be the king. You must be the Chosen. He will love others, as will you, but you will always have each other." The Seer said. And Harry, suddenly, believed it was true.

Then the lone silent voice was heard.

"I love you." Lucius said. "I can not be without you. But I can not be king, living as you would have me live."


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60

 

The small figure of the Seer sat on the bed. Not joining the embrace, not touching any of them, not Harry, Lucius, Graeme or Amrys. Just settling himself, adjusting his concealing robes. His hands, light brown, smoothly folded on his lap after he finished the fussing.

"A good start." He said with satisfaction. "Now, let's go over why we have been called here."

"But, the other Seers, shouldn't they be here?" Graeme asked the man. "If you are going to make a ruling?"

"Oh my, NO! Not really. They can hear us, if they want to. Besides, they are eating! There is pie! They wouldn't thank me for pulling them away. Tambyn, the were-wolf king, has said that his wolf, Sirius Black, lays claim to you, Harry Potter. Why would he say that?"

"He is my godfather. But he doesn't own me!" Harry said, very firmly.

The Seer nodded under his veils. "Possession. Yes. How does the law speak on possession? Do we own other people?" His fingers rolled the floating fabric of his robes between them as they rose and fell like a fine mist. He waited. And waited.

"Well, Harry?" The Seer prompted. "Do we own other people?"

"NO." Harry said, quickly. But his voice held more righteousness than conviction.

"Is that true? We don't own each other? The law says we do. The heart agrees." 

"Uhmm." Harry responded.

"We do, in a way don't we? Larger or smaller parts of each other. The law notwithstanding. You see, the lycanthrope's law often says things that people are uncomfortable saying.The laws are not subject to the emotions which buffet us. They just are."

"Yes. But, if we can own people, then why is it wrong for me to want him to be faithful?" Harry almost pouted the question.

"Because he is not unfaithful. He is faithful to who he is." The Seer said. "And you, you are faithful to who you are."

"I want....wish...."

"Change, Harry. It is always hard to know when change is good and when it is not needed. Or when it must not be permitted." The Seer turned his hidden face towards the tall king, who lay quietly, enjoying the embrace he shared with his ruling cohort. 

The Seer shook a finger at the whole group of them. "You, Lucius, should talk soon. You and him, and I, and your second and your third and all the others who matter. Being too in control is not what you should be just now."

"I can not see what he sees." Lucius said at last. "I have given him no reason for fear. But he is afraid. I love him more than I love myself, and he is...afraid. Unhappy."

"He brings his whole life with him to this moment. As do we all. He brings his fear with him. You didn't give it to him as a gift. You merely unearthed it with your love." The Seer said.

"I am not afraid of him loving me!" Harry protested, winding one leg over Lucius', squeezing tight.

"You fear he will stop." The silky calm voice of Amrys cut in. As he watched Harry's action.

"Why should he love me?" Harry cried out. "He has you and Graeme and Troy and Fred and...everyone else. Why should he love me?"

"Logic never explains love." The Seer offered, his veil twining around Harry's ankle, helping Harry hook it around the back of Lucius' thigh. His voice soft, but still rough as it was forced out of his throat.

"I love you." Lucius answered. "But, I don't understand you. I don't know why you would accuse me of not being true to your heart. I don't understand why you can not accept me as your king. There is no choice for me. I feel your pain, I sought to give you freedom from me, as you have made it clear I am the source of your pain. Yet, I find I haven't the ability to set you free of me. Not even to prevent myself from hurting you. I am unable."

"He is a Muggle." The smooth, velvet voice carried from the doorway into the room. Severus Snape stood there, tall and regal in his own way. The air of authority unmistakable. He turned to the Seer, his dark eyes sharp and sparkling. 

"Severus." The Seer's broken voice was pleased, he patted the bed excitedly, but Snape didn't seat himself. "A pleasure!"

"I did not expect to see you again." Was the controlled rejoinder from the Potion's Master. "I hope you are remaining out of trouble."

"Yes, of course I am. Except when trouble is easily available. Now, you say he is a Muggle? Why?"

"Because he is. All his involuntary instincts, all his automatic responses are ones you might expect of a Muggle. Talk with him until your face is blue, and he will still be a Muggle. He has never learned different."

"Always back to learning." Graeme growled. "It takes time. I will teach him, *we will*. He is ours."

The Seer clapped his hands. "Possession!" He stated triumphantly, rising up on his knees, veils rising in a spinning nimbus of glee.

"It will take years." Snape pointed out, sensibly.

"The years will pass regardless, why not learn while they do?" Amrys said. Snape shared a look with him, as if....Harry thought....they were talking about something entirely different. Nothing remotely scholarly.

"I have tried, for years. Couldn't teach him much beyond spells, potions, the like." Snape fired back.

"We have his love. He will learn." Amrys said, with certainty.

"But, I had his trust." Severus reminded the were-leopards. Harry was struck that that was true. He had trusted, he had understood the dark haired man. His Potion's Professor, the man, who while perhaps he had not always liked him, had saved his life repeatedly.

"Love *and* trust. Those two would be enough." The Seer commented. Snape looked at him again. Raised a single dark brow.

"Trust?" He asked, his dark eyes boring through the veils. "Starting when?"

The Seer touched his veil. "Oh. You mean this. Well, why not?" His hands went to the veil and lifted it, layer by layer, while the room fell quiet. Then the last one was up and tossed aside and the face was plain to the viewers. Dark wavy hair, handsome, dark eyes, glazed over as if they were unseeing. Scars covered his visible throat. The Seer was blind, Harry realized, but that was the lesser shock. He was the only one who shrank back, no one else was surprised. Only him. He felt his gorge rise.

Harry gasped, pupils constricting as he looked up into the familiar face of Tom Riddle. 

The Seer frowned. His hand reached out and touched Harry's wrist very lightly, Harry jumped. Then the Seer's expression cleared. 

"Ah. You knew my father." He said. "I had forgotten."

His fingers ghosted over his face and his throat. Ran over the tangled scars. "I have been told I look like him. I don't know, I have never seen him. But, why would so many lie?"

"Your neck! Your eyes!" Harry blurted out. The scars were old and deep, explaining the damaged voice.

"Oh, yes. Well, father wasn't pleased when I was born. He tried to rectify the event."

"He tried to strangle you? While you were a baby?" Harry exclaimed in horror.

"Surely that doesn't surprise you, Mr Potter. Voldemort had a history of attacking infants, as you yourself well know." Severus Snape reminded him, sharply.

"But...his own son?" Harry whispered.


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61

 

"Father? Harry?" Draco's voice interrupted the mood, it was tight with an un-named fear. He was in Mantheer's grip, straining forward.

Harry looked up as Lucius rose up out of the furs, mighty, regal, the most beautiful man Harry had ever seen. The lighting colored his skin a delicate shade of ivory tinged with pink, covering exquisite musculature. His loosed hair flowed down over his wide shoulders and down his broad back. His chin was lifted, his motion tantalizing, drawing admiration and every eye. He took no notice and clearly felt no discomfort being the center of attention, Harry marveled. He moved like a creature of primordial nature, the ultimate, sleek predator. 

Harry was captivated, aching to be close again, though Lucius had only just parted from him. His need was so sharp and so great he almost cried out again. Lucius turned in mid stride and looked down at him, to where Harry lay curled on his side, watching his lover. It was a look of ownership. One Harry wanted to see. A look powerful enough that Harry felt it touch his flesh, slid over it, was as real as a hand reaching out to lay on his skin. A Claiming without words. The air was charged between them as their gazes held, then Lucius moved on, turning to continue over to Draco.

Draco was being carried by Mantheer. His color looked fractionally better, his eyes were alert and lucid, no longer bright with fever or dull with illness. Even so, Draco looked frightened. Lucius lifted his fingers to run them down Draco's face, exploring the contours with eyes and pads of his fingertips.

"You should not be out of bed." Lucius was saying, examining his son with the tenderest of touches. He ran the back of his fingers over Draco's pale cheek. He nuzzled the side of the young man's throat, scenting him, burrowing into the hair behind Draco's ear, tongue flicking out to deposit a careful, soft lick.

"I heard....the sound...." Draco said in response, voice tremulous, his gaze going over Lucius to Harry. He held on tight to his father. "I thought...I...that sound...one of you....dead...." He sobbed, choking, tried to control the overflow of emotion he was feeling. The cries had torn through him like an ice-frosted knife. He had truly feared one of them had died, was dying, when the terrible sounds had reached his ears. Terror had driven him to rise from his bed, nothing his guardians, also roused by the screams and the howls, said could deter him from coming here. They had all compromised on him being carried here. Otherwise he would have crawled, if that were the only way.

"What....?" His attention lighted on the small man, the stranger and his brow furrowed. He leaned back into Mantheer's hold, as if seeking reassurance. Yaji stepped up and placed a hand on his leg, turning his body so that the young man was shielded, protected. Held between the two large men as his father continued pet him and to confirm he was doing well, Draco visibly relaxed.

"You look like..." Draco began without thinking, then his eyes widened. His lips clamped shut and he cut his gaze over to Harry's, with a look of panicked disbelief. Harry opened his mouth to offer reassurance, but the king beat him to it.

"He's not." Lucius soothed, feeling the tension rise in his son as the small man got to his feet. "He is not Voldemort." 

The small man, the Seer, spoke. Draco cringed at the rough, tortured rasp of his voice. "I am Gwyddion Llyr, and yes, I am the son of Tom Riddle. But, I am not lord Voldemort, that is a title that has passed away and will not be claimed again." He lowered his veils, one by one, and once they had settled in place, walked to the door, as if he was not blind. He made no move to go nearer to Draco, nor to touch him. Not until Lucius called out to him. 

"Gwyddion Llyr, Seer. Come and touch the heir of my pride. I request it. Offer him your blessing." Lucius said and the Seer halted in the act of leaving the room.

"You would have me touch the heir?" He asked to confirm the request. "And Draco, your son, he wishes me to as well?"

"Is it safe?" Draco asked. "Professor Snape?" The slender dark haired man moved up next to him. 

"It will not harm the child." He held his wand in his hand. He was serious faced. Intent on the small man who waited for half a beat, then nodded.

"Your request is granted." The Seer said.

Llyr moved up to the two guardians, stopping next to them, looking dwarfed next to their massive forms, he reached up. Mantheer's bicep flexed, bulging, as he leaned down a fraction to make the reach less. The Seer's hand moved unerringly to Draco's belly, settling lightly over it, down low. His brown hand was warm and not at all invasive. 

"Ah." The Seer commented, his free hand reaching out towards the bed furs and the men still on it. His hand stopped its slow drifting when he pointed at Amrys. "The Sire. Such a beautiful child you will have. Golden hair and golden skin and eyes like amber glowing. Healthy, and kind, a child with much love waiting him. He has all the blessings he needs, he needs none from me. You have done well, Mother of the heir. Your body cherishes the life it bears."

"I want the blessing of the Seer." Draco said quietly. "This is a child much needed, one we will not do without. Will you bless him as well? For the pride's sake?"

"Aye, I will." The Seer said after a momentary pause. His fingers curled a tiny bit, pressing over the place the child grew. The air grew silent and still, frozen as if all movement ceased. Every breath bated, for a long, impossible instant. Then the sound returned , their breathing resumed, time moved forward. The Seer lifted his head from where he had bent down.

"He has my blessings." He pulled away, lowered his hand. Stepped back. Spoke to the room this time. His veils danced in the air.

"It is time to go to the Arena, isn't it? Unless I am mistaken Tambyn is here, I can hear his impatient growling. Best not to keep him waiting. He doesn't wait well. Very...spontaneous, is our were-wolf king. Come, let's go say hello. If we are truly lucky there might be a little something left to nosh on. A slice of pie perhaps?" His voice was as light and sweet as the grating sound could be. Happy, Harry thought. The Seer sounded happy.

Harry stared at the strange man. It was odd to see the face of Tom Riddle and not feel fear.


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

 

Tambyn was huge, resplendent in his blue robes, gaping open over his massive chest, lightly furred, reclining on the second stone throne that had been set up in the Arena to accommodate him. His rough featured face was stony, grim. 

Five of his own were-wolves sat around him. To his right, wearing an absolutely thunderous expression, sat Sirius Black. In human form, he wore an ornate but sturdy collar, the leash of which was firmly wrapped around Tambyn's meaty fist. Sirius was not going anywhere, unless he managed to drag his giant king along with him, no easy task. And the look on his face made it pretty obvious how he felt about the restraint.

Lucius strode into the Arena, the Seer in front of him, moving quickly, eagerly as if he looked forward to the confrontation. His veils had once more began to flutter up and down wildly, a clear indication of the small man's mood. Two other short persons, one male, one female came forward as he entered, the male popping a last morsel of cake into his mouth, then enthusiastically licked his fingers clean. They put their heads close and began speaking in undertones, the women reaching out and flicking a dab of frosting off the unveiled man's cheek.

Lucius settled down on his own throne, sitting with one leg folded under him the other dangling over the edge to the ground. Harry saw Fred and Troy were already there, sitting at the base of the throne, Lucius touched each affectionately, before pulling Harry down on the top of the throne next to him. Harry curled up resting his head on one thick thigh, facing Tambyn. Troy and Fred cuddled up to Lucius' dangling leg. Lucius' fingers twirled in their hair.

Amrys and Graeme stood one to each side of the king's throne, Mantheer and Yaji, the former still carrying Draco, stood at the back, watchful. Kaithas and Tanith were seated on the floor atop furs, a few other were-leopards were in the room. But for the Arena, it was empty. This was not a meeting for the entire pride.

The were-wolf king's eyes blazed with anger as he watched Lucius touch Harry and the other kittens, and something more. Harry saw the wolf-man still wanted him. His gaze was fiery with desire. Harry shuddered under the look, Lucius' hand came to rest on his back, calming and reassuring, giving him strength. 

Tambyn's wolves lounged around him on his throne, rubbing faces on his hands, arms, legs and shoulders, one going so far as to lick at his chin. Only Sirius remained rigidly apart, Tambyn holding the hated leash. He returned their touches, with hands and with his own licks of ownership, his eyes roamed the room always coming back to rest on Harry and on Lucius.

"King's, Leopards and Wolves." The ringing voice of the female seer lifted, drawing all eyes to her. "We come together to discuss a point of law." She looked from face to face, her sharp black eyes coming to rest on Sirius last.

"You, were-wolf, have laid claim to one Harry Potter, who you say was turned to lycanthropy against the laws of the wolves. Explain yourself." Her skin was dark, almost sooty black, her hair tightly pulled back, impossible to tell it's length as it was hidden by her hood.

"I am his guardian. His godfather. I did not give permission for him to be changed." Sirius snarled. "They have to give him back, he is mine."

"Possession!" The Seer yipped, happily. The female seer ignored him.

"Tambyn-king, what is your claim? You, too, say the law has been thwarted." The female seer asked him.

"The boy was under the age of consent by our laws. Only an adult can consent or the guardian of an underage human, to his being turned. It was not done according to our laws. His guardian, Sirius Black, a wolf of mine, intended him to be turned as a were-wolf. As such he would have been mine. I would have taken and claimed him, I know this after meeting him." Tambyn said his deep voice carrying to all corners of the Arena.

Harry was puzzled and a little affronted. The were-wolf had met him before, in his castle, but had not tried to claim him. He had wanted to toss him out, give them a good beating in doing it and would have done so if Lucius had not intervened on his and Draco's part. 

The Seer's hand came up, made a sign of negation even as Harry's mouth opened to protest. Lucius stroked up his throat, hand coming up to cover, gently, the youth's mouth. Muffling any words he might have uttered. 

Harry briefly contemplated biting the hand, hard, instead he compromised, setting his teeth carefully to Lucius' flesh, worrying at it delicately. The release of pheromones was instant. Heads all throughout the room were lifted, noses twitching, turned to face the were-leopard's throne. Only the Seers ignored it. Graeme wound his long fingers around Harry's ankle, warningly. Harry released the hand from his teeth. A sigh floated around the room. Disappointment from most throats.

A commotion broke out around the were-wolves throne. Sirius Black was straining, struggling against the leash, scrabbling at it, trying to wriggle free, his blazing eyes locked onto Lucius and Harry. Tambyn held firm, did not let his wolf win free. He glowered at Harry. And at his rival king.

"Why was consent not sought, were-leopard king?" The female asked.

"The turning was not planned. My Chosen was attacked by an unnatural, magically created beast and thus was turned, without my knowledge. He was brought to me by one of Tambyn's wolves. That is how I learned of his being turned to were-leopard. It is our law that his turning should not have been done without my consent. But once done, he became of my people. I claim him for the pride and for myself as my Chosen. Confirmed by your own head Seer." Lucius retorted, his strong voice filling the Arena.

"If the were-leopard king can not control his lusts, it does not make the boy his! It gives all the more reason that the boy should be returned to his godfather for safe-keeping!" Tambyn managed to sound outraged, but his eyes were hungry as they rested on Harry. Graeme growled and crawled up onto the throne, sitting closely behind Harry, sheltering him, his dark blue eyes fixed on the were-wolf.

"And would you not take him to your own bed, were-wolf king?" Lucius asked. "How long would you wait?"

The toffee-skinned male seer had at last finished licking his fingers clean and looked up in blatant interest at the last question, his attention finally caught. His gaze traveled from Harry to Lucius, to Graeme and then to the were-wolves. Sirius had resumed his struggles and Tambyn pulled sharply on the lead.


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63

 

"I would not display him as you do. I would give him dignity, he would have no male rivals for my attention. He would be second only to my wife." Tambyn ground out, fist tightening on the leash he held in his hand, the other end of which was attached to the collar around Sirius' neck. "Not one of many I took at random to my bed. How many do you take to your bed, were-leopard king? How many marks does he hold against you before it blackens his heart?"

Harry flinched when he heard the question. His skin flushed a deep, embarrassed red, he once more opened his mouth to offer a stinging rebuttal, but the touch on his calf distracted him. He looked down to see Graeme rubbing at his leg, cheek pressed to the muscle, big, dark blue eyes fixed on Harry's face. Harry drew in a quick breath, feeling the flush change, not embarrassment, rather arousal.

"I cherish my Chosen. He has both dignity and honor with the pride. With me, he is second to none." Lucius responded, to the wolf's challenge, his voice even and sure. "My Claimed and my Marked do not lessen the respect he has with us. It is the were-leopard way. He is a were-leopard. He is one of us."

Harry felt his heart warming at the words his king uttered. Lucius loved him. He knew it. The other things, well they bothered him, Harry looked at Fred and Troy. The fact Lucius wanted them, had sex with them and cared for them hurt Harry. Dimly he was aware it was because of his insecurity, not because he thought Lucius didn't love him. Graeme's almost inaudible growl distracted Harry again, this time interrupting his morose thoughts. Graeme's gaze was locked onto his, very slowly the third extended his tongue and lapped at Harry's knee. Harry's heart leaped, he shivered against Lucius' thigh.

Sirius abruptly flashed to wolf form. His hind foot came up and he scratched at the collar desperately, waggling his head side to side, trying to win free. Tambyn growled and bodily lifted the huge wolf, tucking him up tight against his side, holding him firmly, despite his mighty struggles.

"It gives insult. The way you treat him. I have heard that you display him, have sex with him in front of others. That is no respect." Tambyn ground out, holding Sirius' snapping muzzle shut, only just avoiding a serious bite.

Lucius petted Troy, threading his fingers throughout the younger man's thick, dark hair. Troy gazed up at him adoringly, lifted his chin to be scratched under it. His eyes were half shut with pleasure. Harry burrowed closer, holding back the tiny whimper that wanted to escape. The king's big, warm hand rubbed along his back and spine, the caress nearly melted Harry's bones.

"No, you are wrong. He is only ever honored within the pride. Our ways are not an insult to him. It is yourself who seeks to break tradition not I. The wolf's way has always been to take one mate. Your wife Electra is yours. She will not allow there to be others. She is your alpha bitch. Does she know, wolf-king, what you are doing here?" Lucius asked, eyes narrowed.

"She will listen to her king and obey. Harry Potter will bring new power to her pack. She will respect that and my choice." Tambyn insisted, growling every bit as much as the clawing, squirming, scratching Sirius. "He is meant to be a king's mate."

"In that you are right, Tambyn. He is meant to be a king's *mate*. And I have taken him as my Chosen." Lucius agreed. "He is *this* king's mate. He is beside me." 

Lucius' hand continued to stroke along Harry's slender back, massaging gently but deeply, until Harry felt like he couldn't move, like he wanted to roll onto his back and expose his tender belly and have it rubbed. Graeme reached under him and moved his palm over the soft flesh of his stomach, careful, soothing, reassuring touch, Harry, being petted front and back now, purred. 

"As are your second and your third. Do they also taste him, do you force him to accept them?" Tambyn snorted, eyes pinning Graeme, disgust written on his face.

"Our ways are not for you to question." Lucius said. "He is meant to be here. He is loved and cherished and he is my Chosen mate. He wishes to be here."

"You have confused him. How can he know what he wants? It is best to return him to his godfather, to make him a wolf. It is his true place." Tambyn declared, leaning forward, teeth bared. "Give him to us and I will make it known to him that he has more than one choice. That he can come to us of his own free will. Not because of a convenient *accident*!"

"Well this is all very interesting. All this sniping back and forth is soooo entertaining!" The Seer said. "But it is getting us nowhere. Barethes." Gwyddion Llyr raised his arm unerringly in the direction of the silent male seer who had been avidly watching the goings on. The man fairly leapt forward.

The toffee-skinned seer stepped around the female seer who had been long quiet as the two king's argued. He looked at Tambyn and he looked at Lucius. He walked over to the were-wolf king with quick, excited steps. His slim fingers slid into the thick black fur of the wolf that the king held, Sirius whined and stopped struggling as the man's face rubbed into his fur, over his doggy forehead. 

Then the male seer's hands slid up Tambyn's arms. The were-wolf king jumped at the touch, clearly having trouble holding still. 

"What is he doing?" Tambyn asked, barely managing to keep from leaping to his feet and pulling away.

"Why...he is touching you, were-wolf king." The Seer said.

"He is more than touching me." Tambyn snarled out. 

"Inside and out." The Seer clarified, his veils flying in the non-existent wind.


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64

 

Tambyn forced himself to remain immobile, tolerating the touch of the seer, Barethes. It was almost more than he could stand, feeling the hands on him, the seer's mind moving through his own. Gradually reaching deeper and deeper, while Tambyn held back the urge to wallop the smaller man, anything to get him off of him. 

Odd that this invasive touch had calmed Sirius. Tambyn shook, mildly at first then harder and more violently, until he was close to convulsions. He wanted to peel the thing off of him, it was not a man nor wolf, it was a....thing. At the last possible instant he could bear, the seer pulled back, his hands sliding reluctantly away, his mind leaving that of the wolf-king. Barethes licked his lips hungrily, his fingers trailing along the king's belly as he pulled away, Tambyn shrank back, skin crawling, shuddering from the ravenous touch and eyes of the seer.

Barethes stood up, his hand lingering on the large, black furred wolf at Tambyn's side, petting the head of Sirius Black, fingers digging into the thick fur, the were-wolf pressing his eager snout into the touch, his earlier agitation gone. His tail was wagging enthusiastically, so strongly that his whole hind end moved back and forth. He licked the hand that was in front of his muzzle. Then the seer stepped away and turned on his heel. He started at a loping run, launching himself directly at Lucius, seated on his own throne, the seer clambering over Fred Weasley, who pulled back with a defensive yip as he was stepped on and up onto the rock and springing at the were-leopard king. 

Lucius' first instinct was to remove himself from the seer's grasp, most especially after witnessing Tambyn's cringing reaction. But, he held himself still and let the seer's hand fall onto his skin, let the small body mold to his. Oh, that was not so bad. A definite feline flavor to the contact. That catlike taste was probably what gave Tambyn the willies. While Lucius wouldn't have chosen the contact, it didn't trouble him all that much. Which was definitely not the case for the young-ling at his side. Harry objected to the encounter without delay.

Next to Lucius, held close, Harry yelped, raising his head in alarm. He felt the seer's entrance into his lover's mind. He jerked back from the brief contact he had with the seer's robes, frantically brushing them off and away. And he didn't like it at all, the seer pawing at his Mate. Lucius was his, Harry bared his teeth, they went from human blunt to were-leopard sharp in an instant.

Graeme was suddenly up and over Harry's body, pinning him, arms and legs around the younger man holding tight. "It's OK. It is what they do. They don't harm you if you don't resist. Relax. Our king will be fine. He has done this before." He snuggled Harry into the curve of his body, careful to keep Harry's hands occupied, and away from the seer, his bigger hands snug around Harry's wrists. Harry though, wasn't having any of it.

Harry hissed, low and threatening, tensing as the contact between seer and king seemed to go on far too long. He strained against Graeme's superior physical strength. Graeme held him and there was movement off to the side. Harry shied away from it. His eyes showing white, startled. It was Gwyddion Llyr. The youth bared his teeth again and the Seer wisely stayed out of reach.

"Be at ease. He will not be harmed." The Seer soothed. Risking a touch to Harry's back, Harry hissed louder, his eyes back on Lucius and the male seer who was laying full length atop him, practically melting into him.

"Barethes." Llyr called to him, quietly, correctly gauging the degree of the young Chosen's upset. "I would suggest that you hurry."

Barethes murmured something unintelligible, squirmed more securely against the were-leopard king, clinging, pleased to be where he was. Harry struggled harder against the encircling arms that restrained him and kept him from rescuing his king and his Mate.

"Barethes." The Seer repeated the call. A bit louder and more urgently. "You haven't much time. Wrap it up." He was amazed at the power of the young-ling, it traveled up his arm from where he was lightly touching the youth's back. Harry was going to get free, if he was determined to do so.

"Oooooh." Barethes replied, shivering from head to foot, face rooting at the base of Lucius' neck, he licked Lucius' throat lazily, then his lips as if savoring the taste. Harry spat out the loudest hiss yet, thrashing wildly, managing to get one hand free, he swiped at the seer laying blissfully on top of the staring Lucius. Graeme rolled backwards just in time to save the seer Barethes from injury. Harry swiped at him again, lightning fast, again only just missing. He was sporting long, wickedly hooked claws. Gleaming, ivory colored, lethal talons.

"Barethes!" Gwyddion Llyr yelled as loudly as his raspy voice allowed. "Get away from him now!" 

The female seer took the most direct action. She reached over from her position to the opposite side of Harry and bodily lifted her male companion off of the were-leopard king. He let out a moan of disappointment as he was pulled away, his hands trailing behind the rest of his body, trying to hold on. Pouting. 

Immediately, Graeme released his tight hold on the Chosen and Harry sprang to cover Lucius with his own defensively postured form. He had grown a long tail, along with his fangs and his claws. The tail twitched rapidly, threateningly, in the air over them. He turned his face toward the male seer, now shielded behind his female counterpart and he growled a very clear warning. Graeme hovered watchfully over Harry's back, while Amrys moved to cut off the open space between the Chosen and the two seers.

"Now that was just foolish." The Seer scolded his fellow seer, sternly. "Shame on you. Bad, bad kitty." He shook his finger, and the male seer hung his head. Llyr paused, then spoke, once more. 

"So. What did you find out?" He made no effort to hide his eagerness, rubbing his hands together briskly.


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65

 

The female seer was the one to speak, her male counterpart stood behind her, arms wrapped round her torso, just under her breasts, his head resting on her shoulder as she stood and gave the ruling of the Seer's Council. Her voice was strong and carrying, she seemed not at all disturbed by her colleague holding on to her so tightly as she spoke, nor to be disturbed by the roiling emotions and tension that filled the room. She flung out one hand pointing it at the wolf king, who sat uncomfortably, waiting. He did not flinch at the gesture, but it was a near thing.

"The King of the wolves, he desires the boy mightily. He recognizes the power he would bring to the wolves, he wants it to benefit his pack. His intent is to better the lives of his wolves, to increase their standing in the lycanthrope world. He does have some interest in bedding him, but that is not his primary motivation. He has no inclination to harm him. Nor is he naturally homosexual. He has never felt for another male what he feels for Potter. I say to you, Tambyn, wolf king, this is not your way."

She then spun on her heel, the skirt of her robes flaring out from the point they were being held by the arms of her partner, the man plastered to her back moving with her perfectly in sync, until she faced the were-leopards. She raised her hand again, looked at them, crouched atop the stone throne, Harry still looking quite rebellious, half human, half his animal form. His teeth were very prominently displayed, lips peeled warningly back. She reacted to the shiny fangs not at all.

"The Leopard King loves Harry Potter. He loves his pride. He seeks the best for him and for his pride. They have many differences, but they are moving closer. He embraces what it is to be leopard and lycanthrope. He wishes his subjects to be happy. Content. Pleased. And he desires Harry a hundred times more than the wolf king. He is naturally inclined to love men above women. He married for duty, came to feel great affection for his wife until she betrayed him with the truth, and since then his passion has only been for others of his own sex. I say to you, Lucius, were-leopard king, this is your way."

The female seer lowered her hand, and dropped her chin to rest on her chest. Sighed, laying her hands over those of the man who held her patting them.

"Where shall Harry Potter live?" Gwyddion Llyr asked the slender, dark skinned woman. She lifted her head again, dropping her hands away.

"It is my ruling that he shall remain where he is, among the were-leopard's pride, with the obligation to visit his godfather, and attend to him with the duties of his true son. For the black wolf does love him." The female turned to look at first the leopards then at Tambyn.

"You, Tambyn, wolf king. You are not wrong for seeking to enhance your pride. Yet you must walk carefully to preserve the right and honor of your pack. You are not ready to add any other lover to your life, your actions would have destroyed the stability of your pack. It has always been the arrangement of the wolves to take one mate and no others. The power you would have received would not have made up for the disruption of the pack's customs." She said to him. "The Chosen of the leopards is what he is and can not be changed again to human, not by any magic. He is bound as the Chosen of old, the ancient ones, with a life bond that must remain intact. Beyond the bond of lover and lover. To sever the bond is death."

"You, Lucius, leopard king. You have looked deep and hard into your heart. You have held true to your pride's laws. You have tried to tread gently with the heart of your Chosen. I say to you. Do not forsake the laws. The laws define our societies, the laws tell us who we are. The leopards have always lived by the laws that are now written in stone." Her dark face was firm and unbending as she told him. Lucius nodded in acknowledgment, his hands soothingly at Harry's waist, Graeme and Amrys still watchful. Standing between Harry and the seers.

The woman turned her dark, blazing eyes on the youth spread possessively over the body of his king. Jealousy touched the green eyes. It was there for those who looked deep enough to see.

"You, Harry Potter, Chosen of the were-leopard pride. I say to you. Do not worry. Those we care for and who care for us always have owned parts of us. And it will ever be so. Such a thing is not to be feared, nor is sharing the love of others who love you. There is much love within the pride for you. Enough for all. I tell you, breathe deep, think not of what others have that you want. If you do, you will miss what you yourself have, and will never enjoy it."

She reached up and took the hand of her fellow seer and led him from the Arena. The male seer whined, looking back over his shoulder longingly at the were-leopards. Gwyddion Llyr was left, the lone member of the council.

The Seer walked over to the visitor's throne. He held out his hand to Tambyn. The wolf king's reluctance to touch another member of the council was apparent, he hesitantly held out his own hand. His face was a study in shocked amazement when their hands came together. His large eyes flew up to the Seer's veiled face.

Gwyddion Llyr moved closer, his free hand coming up to touch the side of the massive man's face. He leaned in very close and spoke. Too low for even the were-leopard's sharp hearing to pick up. Tambyn nodded once, his own hand, huge against the small man's back was spread wide. He nodded again. Then he stood.

"Lucius, were-leopard king, I thank you for the hospitality of your pride. There will be no repercussions from this day." Tambyn began. Lucius inclined his head in recognition. "My word shall bind all of my wolves. Your Chosen is bound to you beyond my ability to sever, even if I feel his place should rightly have been elsewhere. I would not cause harm or death by trying to remove him. He is welcome within the pack's home. And he will be safe there as long as my rule shall last." Then the were-wolf king swept the Seer up in his arms and strode out, his wolves trailing, Sirius' leash still in his grip.

Harry was torn. He wanted to go to his godfather, despite all the trouble he had stirred up. Sirius looked over his furry shoulder at him. Harry felt Lucius' hands firm on him, telling him he was not going to be allowed to go to the wolf. This king did not trust so easily as all that. Harry surrendered to the command in those strong hands.

"I love you, Sirius." Harry called after the departing black wolf. "I will come visit you."


	66. Chapter 66

Chapter 66

 

Severus Snape allowed himself to pace. Ten long strides in one direction, then a turn on his boot heel and ten strides back the other way. The sound of his steps on the stone tiles were sharp in the silence. He kept the strides measured and in control, none of the franticness that was building internally was permitted to show outwardly.

The Seer's council was sequestered with the ruling contingent of two lycanthrope groups, wolf and leopard. There were decisions being made, ones that would effect both groups more than they thought and those decisions were ones that Snape wanted desperately to hear, immediately. The need to know ate at him. 

The decisions affected Potter, a boy he had gradually and unwillingly come to care for and to protect more than once. The wrong verdict would destroy the boy. But what Snape knew of lycanthrope culture told him that was not always a factor taken into consideration in circumstances such as these. Neither lycanthrope group seemed to grasp just how frightening the power Harry had was. Nor did they comprehend how differently the youth conceived things. He was not a lycanthrope yet. 

Seven years of study at Hogwarts had not washed away the foul taint of his horrific Muggle upbringing. Now, with less than half a year as a lycanthrope, they thought he should be behaving like one of their own. Severus sighed. They treated him as they would any other young-ling. Had the same expectations of him, expected him to know what they wanted, all without acknowledging he had never been made aware of how differently wizarding families raised their children. Without telling him what he was supposed to know, what Snape blamed Dumbledore for Harry not knowing. What Snape had tried to teach him, but for the most part he had not had the time to do all that much. The war against Voldemort had taken that time away. 

Of course, when it came to Potter, it was not unusual for his feelings and needs not to be a factor in decisions made about him. Like the decision to place him with that appalling Muggle family, the Dursleys, to leave him there despite years of abuse that Dumbledore *was* aware of. When Harry had finally been permitted to come to Hogwarts to see the wizarding world, it had been almost to late. He had grown, immensely. But he was in pain. He didn't understand what he was supposed to do. And now here he was, in the same situation, an outsider, looking in. But, this time, gods willing, it would be different for the boy. This time, maybe, he would belong and find a family to care for him. If the seers made the right decision. The alternative was to, essentially, deliver Harry into an unknown man's bed.

Snape paced. Dumbledore was a coldly practical man. His outward demeanor was nothing like the true heart of a cold, calculating politician the man really was. The grandfatherly outside was all window dressing, convenient to use to reassure clingy students and wary parents, but it was not the real Dumbledore. For Merlin's sake, he had survived 200 years of machinations in various positions of power in the wizarding world. There was not a wizard or witch in an office of responsibility that didn't owe the old man something. And Dumbledore was ruthless about calling those favors in.

Then there was how the deliberations now going on in the lycanthrope Arena might affect Draco. Draco had developed an unexpectedly firm friendship with Potter. He would be strongly impacted by what happened to the young man. If Potter was forced to leave the pride, Snape had little doubt Draco would try to get him back, using any means at his disposal, with danger to himself not a consideration. Draco Malfoy, the unfeeling, icy Slytherin to outsiders, was in reality, fantastically loyal. Reliable. And determined when it came to aiding friends.

Snape had let his attention drift and was recalled to his situation when he stubbed his toe sharply on an ornately carved, very sturdy table leg. The pain shot up his foot and into his leg. He stopped his pacing, sucking in a deep breath. He stood, propping his hands on the damn table until the pain decreased to a bearable level. Then he turned his mind back to the current problem he was contemplating. It was impossible to hold still and think the problem through, he resumed pacing, this time with a slight limp.

Lucius Malfoy, his friend and king of the were-leopard pride would be shattered if Potter was taken away. Snape was beginning to suspect there was more to the relationship he shared with the Chosen, (it was strange thinking of the raven haired, emerald eyed, troublesome young man as that), than was initially obvious. When he had been in the company of both men, Severus had noted a binding signature that did not match what he had expected to find. He was sensitive to such things, all forms of magic, very intuitive, though his students would no doubt laugh at such an idea, that he was sensitive in any way at all. He was certain that the association between the king and his Chosen, was far more than Lucius was letting on.

And his own personal problem. Amrys. Despite knowing the man was Draco's, Snape found himself thinking about the broad shoulders and strong body far too often. He'd woken from no less than half a dozen dreams featuring the man in this one week alone. Things on that front were decidedly out of control, they had to be addressed. Soon.

He had once again lost his awareness of his surroundings and this time took a far worse tumble, falling over the tea table that should have been well out of his way, if he hadn't wandered off to one side of the room in the course of his pacing. He was never this clumsy he thought to himself, impatiently. He struggled to a sitting position. His foot throbbed from the first stubbing. And now the ankle of the other foot hurt far more. With an exasperated sigh he carefully worked his boots off. It was not a pleasant experience, sweat dewed his face before he had completed the task.

His right great toe was a rapidly purpling, swollen mess. Freed from the shoe, it made its displeasure with his lack of attention plain. Then Snape looked at the other foot. That one was worse, naturally. Pain throbbed through the swollen ankle. No way was he going to get that back into his footwear. He sighed again, a fine mess. He was to blame of course, if he had just maintained his concentration, instead of losing it like a school boy...

"Well." The rich voice whispered over every nerve he had. He snapped his head around and face the half amused face of the pride's second. "It looks as if you could use a little help."

Snape waved that away, here at last was someone who could tell him what happened. "In due time," he exclaimed, "what about the ruling?"

"Harry will remain with the pride as Lucius' Chosen." Amrys came around the back of the couch and squatted down. Before Severus could object he slid his powerful arms under Snape's knees and behind his back. He rose as if it were no effort to lift the tall wizard at all.

"Wait!" Severus said. "My shoes." He finished lamely when Amrys did stop.

"I prefer my men barefoot." Amrys said.


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67

 

"I am afraid I can't...." Severus began reasonably enough for a grown man being carried barefoot through the corridors of the Manor, oogled by at least a dozen curious faces as the lycanthrope bore him down the hall. Worse, he could feel the distracting flexing and relaxing of the muscles of the man who was carrying him. Those glorious muscles pressed so close, too close for him to think rationally. He swallowed and tried again.

"We can't....uhm...we're in....public.....they're...looking......" Snape started a second time. Amrys raised his brows waiting for a complete sentence from the slender man he was holding.

Snape found himself lost in gazing at the handsome profile, the tanned skin, the blond-gold hair, the full mouth just begging to be licked and nibbled at. He flushed head to foot, a tingly rush. Ahhh, Merlin, he was about to make a huge fool of himself. He was about to beg for just one moment, a single taste, of that glowing beauty. It just wouldn't do. He had a reputation to maintain, his dignity to preserve. He spluttered. Amrys smiled at him. Snape's heart skipped a beat, then raced.

Amrys lowered him onto a bed atop a mound of furs. He gently began to unbutton the slimline coat that Snape was wearing. Severus' fingers were dueling with the lycanthrope's. Unsure if he was helping loosen the coat or trying to keep it on. His fumbling seemed only to amuse his companion, seeing how quickly the coat came free, he had to conclude he *was* helping to undress himself. It ended up off, lickety-split, then his shirt quickly followed. 

Bare from the waist up, he lifted his chin, this could not be allowed to continue. He opened his mouth, determination wrinkling his brow, clutched a fur to his chest, and readied himself to take control of the situation. He drew in his breath, and the musk of the were-leopard, all maleness, all sweet-and clean, and so erotically charged with pheromones. He almost groaned aloud. He shivered.

"Really, there is no need...." He began, the last word a squeak, a humiliating *squeak*, then Amrys looked up at him from under his lashes. Dark, sultry eyes, long, gold lashes, and suddenly Snape couldn't say a word. His chest was seized up tight, his belly tickling him from the inside, growing hot, burning hungry fire. Amrys' lips parted, his tongue, the very tip, so pink, flicking over the full bottom lip. Snape was helpless. Desperate for that taste.

"Ohhh." He said. He could see down the loose top as Amrys bent forward, see the perfect curve of his chest, the darker nipples, taut, decorating the slope. And he wanted, oh, gods so badly, to reach out, to touch that tiny, hard bud, to lap at it with his tongue, famished for this taste, his first taste of a man in too, too long. Of a lycanthrope, of anyone this beautiful.

Amrys, hearing nothing but the moan, feeling the need, smelling the desire, moved up, brushed his cheek over the wizard's, licked the corner of his mouth. Nuzzled him. Licked again, Severus moaned louder, clutching the fur spread, his head falling back, weight resting on his elbows, not anything he could control. He let the other man take over the kiss, let him explore the heated recesses of his mouth, while he made do with the leisurely, wondrous sucking on the slick tongue that was driving him mad.

Amrys slid close. His dark gold hair tangling with Snape's black tresses. His body seemed to flow up over Severus'. The heat transferring from skin to skin, even through the shirt Amrys still wore. Fingers were at his belt, undoing the fastenings, the buttons and slipping the snug trousers down his legs. Leaving him bare now, above and below the waist. The long, clothed leg of the pride's second slipped between his naked thighs. It was all Snape could do not to yelp.

He was naked and very hard. My god, he was hard, throbbing, straining, hunching, that kind of hard. He panted, while the lycanthrope devoured his mouth, his kiss breathless. Snape fell back, his legs splayed, the fully clothed man moving between his long slim thighs, hand trailing soft as down up the outside of his leg, up to his hip, digging in, causing him to shudder.

Amrys bit him tenderly. Laved the sting with a soothing swipe. Snape hissed, his legs wrapping tight around the so muscular hips, drawing them in. Feeling the other man's erection. Long and perfect, thick and hot, pressing into his own intimate flesh. The big hands, they flexed and lifted his hips, finger tips brushing between the globes of his ass, touching him...there. He was wet. Very wet. And he realized, he was being prepared. A finger entering him, just the very tip, alien, but very welcome.

"We...oh no...can't....ohhhh...." The wizard moaned. Amrys nipped the side of his throat, pushed the finger in, deep. Severus stiffened, that was...good. The finger moved, turned, hooked, touched.... Severus Snape couldn't move. He was frozen, his body under someone else's control. He finally managed a breath, a cry, a groan, then he arched into the pressure of that wonderful finger, just there, perfectly...there. His whole pelvis was molten with need. He shifted, rode the invader, the second finger that joined it. Heard the throaty, pleased sound the lycanthrope made.

"Take me in." Amrys said, his words hot puffs against the pale throat. He licked the sweat dewed skin. "Take me all the way in. Yes. Like that. Grip me tight."

The object demanding entrance was not a finger, not two nor three fingers. It was Amrys' erection, Severus knew. Big. Pressing in. Abating. Patient, but inevitable. He knew it wouldn't stop, not until he was filled, screaming. He gasped, thighs trembling as the slick shaft pierced him.

"Tell me, wizard, do I please you? You please me, with your heat all around me. Let me in. Let me fill you full." Amrys said, lapping the rim of the other man's ear, tongue dancing over the edge, teeth grazing, sending frantic shivers over Severus' body. His hips surged, up and inward.

Inside. Another man was inside his body. Strong and thick, joyous. Brushing over some wonderful spot inside of him while it was there. Over and over. While he cried out, over and over. Shook and shivered. Writhed, transfixed on this pleasure. Beyond what he remembered of sex before. He was being ridden with utmost care, with a sensual power driving all reason before it. With spine bowing thrusts that bore deep into his core, the pressure building, overflowing until he screamed with it. Screamed. Severus Snape. Howling as he came, wave after wave of overwhelming release. Stealing all his strength, wringing him empty and dry. Until he was filled with his lover's seed.

Then, it was over. Done. The bliss fading. His incredulity back. It could not have been him. He could not have done such a truly astounding thing. Had it done to him. Impossible, despite the languid pleasure that lingered in his melted bones. The towering pleasure had not been his to take.

"Draco...." Severus said desperately, his words were choked, full of pain. He had taken Draco's lover. It was unforgivable. "Your lover....I..."

Amrys lifted his head. His face was a study in surprise. "The Mother is not my lover."

"But...I heard....uh...they said....you are the father of the child he is carrying." Snape insisted. He had not imagined that.

"Yes. I was chosen to father the heir. By the seer, our seer, Kaithas." Amrys said. "I am not his lover. I have never been." His hand came up to cup the other's cheek. "Don't weep for that. Weep for pleasure. Those are the only tears I want to bring to your eyes."


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68

 

Draco Malfoy was sore. His legs and chest ached. The wounds were healing, Professor Snape was very pleased with his progress, but they hurt all the time. At times just a small pain, at others, a throbbing, tearing pain. Snape told him it was from the residue of the poison his aunt had used, that he could be given a draft for it, but that would slow the healing. So Draco chose to bear the pain.

He sat back on his heels. He had come down here, to the stone room, drawn to the ancient words. The seers' ruling had been a relief for him, Harry was safe within the protection of the pride. Draco had a working knowledge of the everyday expectations for behavior in the pride but he had never delved deeper into the laws. He thought now that had been a mistake. He should have asked, explored, tried to understand. Especially when he had been the heir. But what child has sensible ambitions? Certainly not he. 

The incised words started far up in every corner, ran along every inch of space, save for the floor under his furs. He couldn't see them clearly, the ones so high up. In the condition he was in he knew climbing up on a ladder would be a bad idea. One slip and not only would he be hurt, but he'd never get Mantheer or Yaji to bring him here again. Once their protective instincts were roused, no amount of cajoling changed their minds. The would stand like stony pillars against all his begging or clever argument.

He shifted in the nest of furs they had arranged for him. Turning on his side helped ease the strong spasm that was gripping his thighs at the moment, kneeling had been a bad idea. He read the words in front of him for the third time, pondering them. It was, naturally, too much to hope for that the laws were forthright and easy to understand. Or that they would be written as do's and don'ts. No wonder the seers spent all their lives studying the laws. And no wonder that even the kings went to the seers at times to seek clarity. 

"And the Chosen shall be the balm of the king." Draco murmured out loud. What did that mean? Was Harry supposed to be soothing for his father? Because as much as he loved his father, and...OK...loved Potter, their relationship was anything but soothing. Intense. Yes. Passionate. Absolutely. But not soothing. Not in the way Draco felt soothed by his guardians. No. The comparison was almost laughable. Lucius and Harry were pure fire, as likely to be arguing as kissing.

On the other hand, Mantheer and Yaji made Draco feel safe. Cared for. Loved. Secure. Calm. He cherished them in a way he had not before the conception of his child. It had taken Harry, *and* the two guardians to get Draco through the ceremony of conception. He had not wanted to have a man mate with him. Not even the glorious, golden Amrys, who brought stars to the eyes of every member of the pride for as long as Draco remembered. Having the furry bodies of his guards next to him had been...necessary. Having them with him every night and every day since his attack was becoming...absolutely necessary. There was a definite theme here, he thought, wryly. One he'd have to examine more closely in the near future. He had a feeling that he, the flashy Slytherin who pursued lovely young women, was in for a shock. But later. For now...

Draco frowned. He read the law again. "And the Chosen shall be the balm of the king." Did it mean the Chosen could be used by the king to smooth the workings of the pride? To calm the members? To comfort those who needed comfort? King's of the pride had long offered the Chosen to other royalty as a deeply honored welcome when they visited. It was considered the highest compliment any pride king could bestow. So high an honor that it was *not* expected by the visiting royals. Not requested. And if offered, was never, ever refused.

Of course, there was also the situation they were now in. There had not been another Chosen in Draco's lifetime. Yet, even he wondered if it was right that the ruling three did not share the Chosen. Amrys and Graeme had always shared everything with Lucius. Only those two, the second and the third, had Rights to touch what was the king's. The Rights to his bed, to his time, to his body, to everything that made him king. To everything that made him who he was. Even more so now that Amrys was the Sire. 

They were tighter than ever now, the ruling three. And Lucius was trying to do something. Draco had pondered just what it was after the scene in his father's rooms, the horrible screaming...he had to ask himself the questions. Lucius had tried to give Harry to Graeme. And when Harry refused, the king had tried to sever their bond, to walk away and reject his Chosen. Merlin, what a mistake that had been. But, it had also been a well needed lesson. 

Was the favor of the Chosen the balm that the king used to keep his ruling triad stable, content? It made sense that it was. To Draco anyway. But, this was the first day he had come here. What did he know? He determined to ask Amrys about it. Graeme, while Draco didn't fear him, not really, was a bit to volatile to ask. Though as Draco understood, Graeme was as close as it came to an expert and fanatical adherent to the laws and traditions of the pride.

Harry, though. Draco shook his head. Harry was not the most balm-y sort. He was too powerful, too stubborn, too....Harry. If balm was what his father had been looking for in a Chosen, then the king had miscalculated badly in his choice. But, the tie between the two of them was there. Blazing strong for any one to see. Unbreakable the seer had said. The young blond man shook his head, grinning secretly to himself.

His father, powerful king that he was, had bitten off a bit more than he could chew when it came to Harry. Potter was a handful. Or more. The king himself could use help in taming that fire. Perhaps...the help of his second and third?

Draco turned back to the wall, and the deep carved words. "And the Chosen shall be the balm of the king." What exactly did that mean?


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter 69

 

Draco let Yaji carry him out of the stone room. He could hardly wait until the last effects of the poison wore off and he could walk more than a few dozen steps without spasm or pain. 

He had read several of the laws and wondered about them. He'd solved few. Mostly what he had were many, many questions. It seemed the laws could be interpreted more than one way. Just about all of them. None of them, pardon the pun, were written in stone. None were of the type..."thou shall not..." The simplest had been the one that said, essentially, there would always be three to rule. It didn't specify who those three were, or how they would be chosen. But, other laws had mentioned the second and the third. Draco had picked up on the idea the laws were not complete on their own, they were intended to be cumulative. All honored together.

Yaji was warm and Draco was wrapped in the furs that he'd been sitting on. It made him wonderfully drowsy. Half-dreamy, he snuggled down into the big man's arms, enjoying the sway of the man's steps, they were rocking him to sleep. He burrowed his face against the strong chest, rubbing it with his cheek, contentedly.

"Yaj?" He asked sleepily, his voice a little thickened.

"Yes?" The big man answered, a pleasant rumble against Draco's cheek.

"Did you ever study the laws? Ever read them and wonder about them?"

"I did read them, from the doorway of the room. But, I have never studied them. They are not for casual study. They can not be learned from a single day's reading, nor a month, nor a year. They require a lifetime. The laws and the stone room are sacred to the pride. It is not meant for many to trespass in the room simply to gape at them."

"Oh." Draco thought about that. He didn't want to do anything that would show lack of respect for the pride or the laws. Perhaps he shouldn't go into the room again. "Then, why haven't you told me not to go inside?"

"You are not a casual visitor to the room. Your study is serious." Yaji replied, holding him closer, causing Draco to smile involuntarily, it felt good. Yaji continued. "I can see the fire in your eyes when you study the laws. They excite you, you want to understand them. You respect the sacredness. You honor our history. And the room let you in."

"I..." Draco thought about that. He was drawn to the room. He was drawn to the carved words covering every inch of the walls, he did feel a need to understand the laws. In fact, nothing had compelled him more strongly in his young life, aside from the need to carry the pride's heir. He yawned, a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. Yaji was right. This was not a whim, not mere curiosity. "I'm really tired, Yaj."

"Then sleep. I will take you to bed." The big man said, his deep voice low and soothing, his warm breath stirring the hair laying across the youth's forehead.

Draco thought about that. The wording of the reply. Another thing he'd been contemplating. Rather a lot, if he was truthful. Perhaps, it was because he had been sitting trying to untwist the laws, but it seemed to him that Yaji's words could also be translated two or more ways. He found himself smiling. He lifted his chin to look up at the strong brown face, the firm jaw, the smooth, powerful throat. He felt the echo of excitement, if only he wasn't so tired, he'd reach up and....

"Yes, I'd like that. You taking me to bed. You and Mantheer. Keeping me warm. Holding me." Draco answered the guardian, dreamily.

"Then it shall be so. Rest." Yaji murmured. He looked down at the faintly flushed face of the Mother of the heir. The youth was beautiful. Even more so now as the new life grew within and the gentle curve of his belly showed. Faster than the usual pregnancy, this magical one. That sight never failed to stir him, the gravid swelling, Yaji acknowledged. Those who carried new life were doubly blessed, infinitely beautiful. That Draco, a male, did, was a miracle.

They had watched him grow from a tiny bundle to a wildly restless and clever child, then into an angry teenager, gone off to Hogwarts, desperate to be older than he was, desperate to please his father and the pride. That time Draco spent at the school had been hard, separated from all he knew, his guardians who had been in his life daily without fail were suddenly not there. They'd also seen the absolute devastation when Draco had to be told he was not the heir. He was not of the pride, even if he was the son of the king. That had come close to destroying the boy. The son paying the price for his mother's sin of omission. 

That sad day Yaji and Mantheer had been with him, cradling him as he wept. Big and silent, offering the only thing they had. Warm hands. Safe haven. Pure love. The promise of it never being taken from the boy. Now at last Draco was moving beyond the love of the years before he was grown, to the possibility of a new form of love. Yaji would not push. He knew it was a new idea for the blond young man. And if Draco wanted it, then he would have it. As slowly and gently as he needed.

Draco was asleep by the time Yaji reached his room. Smoothly, he lay the young man on the furs, with careful hands undressed him, covering him with the furs, then he curled up around him. Mantheer would be coming in from eating soon. The news of Draco's request would be welcome.

Yaji watched Draco sleep. Here was the Mother of the heir. Not a role he had ever expected the youngster to take. Not once in all the time he was growing to adulthood, had Draco expressed the desire for a child he carried in his own body. No, Draco had wanted to be king. To follow in his father's footsteps and be the pride's second great king in succession. Yaji had believed that was the youth's future, his destiny. But, it was not. This was.

His touch on the silvery-blond locks was light as a feather, more delicate than his large hand looked capable of. He ran the silky strands between his fingers, traced the arched brows that could express such a range of emotion without a single word. Beautiful. The last vestiges of childhood were burning away, granting more and more glimpses of the stunning young man the Mother was becoming.

Draco stirred in his sleep. He threw a leg over the larger man's and snuggled his face into the strong column of Yaji's neck, giving it an unconscious kiss. That sent waves of tingling pleasure through the were-leopard. Sweet and glorious, he would wait until the day Draco was truly ready, then Yaji would give him his body to go with the heart the youth already possessed.

I will stand by you, he thought to himself. I will be your shield. No one will go through me and reach you. You will always have me, you will always be safe with me. He reached out again, stroking the length of Draco's arm from shoulder to fingertip. He intertwined their fingers, holding hands. It warmed him, deeply satisfying. He turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his bed companion's hair.


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter 70

 

Draco woke cuddled between the two men he slept with every night since the day he'd been hurt by Andromeda's attack. Tonight, though, everything had changed, everything was different, he was more aware of everything about them. He had stopped taking them for granted. At last. He paid attention to the feeling he had when they surrounded him. He felt safe. He felt warm. He felt content.

He sat up between the large men. Mantheer, the darker of the two was stretched out on his back, the swell of his chest sweeping down to his well sculpted abdomen, all the way to the powerful jut of hip. His heavy genitals were soft, unaroused, yet still drawing the eye. How large would he be if he were aroused, Draco wondered? He shifted on the furs, closer to the bigger man. He thought about taking that bulky mass and weighing it in his hand. He had never done anything like that. The only time, that once with Amrys, had not involved his touching the other man much.

Moonlight frosted the angles and planes of the big form, gleaming silver-pale and black shadowed valleys. No one had ever called Mantheer classically beautiful, he was all masculine power, all strength and aggressive force. Primal man-beast as he lay sprawled in sleep. So big, overwhelming, taking up so much more space than Draco himself. Draco looked at him, breath caught in his throat as his gaze traveled over the exquisite swell of full bicep and massive shoulder. He would never be so impressively huge, so daunting.

There was nothing subtle about the great body Draco watched in sleep. He extend his hand to touch it. His palm fitted over the pectoral muscle perfectly, the heat of Mantheer's skin rising to meet him before he made contact, he felt the small, hard bud of the man's dark nipple against the very center of his cupped hand. The light dusting of chest hair was silken, soft. And under his hand, beat the steady heart. He absorbed the beat into his own body. So aware of the life coursing through them both. He had to touch the peaked nipple, feeling the pebbly texture, the tip, his fingers rested on it, then gathering courage, rolled the nub. It was mesmerizing, his mouth watered with the urge to taste it. What would it taste like on the tip of his tongue? Would he be permitted to suck it into his mouth, to make the big man want him to? How long before he might feel Mantheer's hand guiding him to that point, feel the arch of his body into his own?

Draco let his hand linger for a moment longer, then he began to explore a little more. His fingers, moving without thought, into the valley of the place between the two great muscles of the guardian's chest, tracing the corded junction upwards to the hollow at the base of the muscular throat. Draco found his fingertips dipping into that space, stroking softly. Another point he wanted to run his moist tongue over. To place a full lipped kiss, just there in the center of it, nibble at the hollow with careful teeth, press his open mouth around the Adam's apple and lave it with a wet and eager tongue.

His eyes followed the smooth lines of colorless light up to the thick column of throat, saw the same pulse, the same rhythm there. He ran his touch up, over that second pulse. Up the jaw to Mantheer's face. The dark eyes were open, though Mantheer lay quiet under the scrutiny, allowing the young man's touch, welcoming it. Draco's fingers stroked, gentle, across the cheek, almost shyly to the corner of Mantheer's lips.

Firm, stern mouth, hot, unexpectedly soft, soft enough to startle a gasp from him, his eyes widening, flying up to meet the black ones, again. Color never survived the moonlight. Mantheer was still watching him, doing nothing to stop him, nothing to spook the hesitant young man. Draco could not look away, could not breathe. Mantheer waited for him to calm, then smiled. Draco's heart flipped. 

Oh, god. This was it. All the times he had thought he was in love he'd been wrong. All the times he'd had sex, been deep inside a slender, sweetly feminine body and believed he was in paradise, been sure he was in lust. All those times he had been so wrong. This was it. No soft womanly form under him to fuel this revelation. Only the hard, uncompromising male who had adored him for as long as he could remember. 

He was in love. Wonderfully, hopelessly, tenderly in love. And not with just this one man. It was both of them, Yaji and Mantheer. It went beyond passion, beyond sex. He had not had either with them, not yet. But, he knew he had not loved anyone so intensely before. No one else had stolen his reason with a simple touch of his own hand on their body. No one else made him yearn for a touch in return.

"I don't know what I am doing," Draco whispered, the delicate flush spreading up his face, as their eyes stayed locked.

"Yet, you do it so perfectly." Mantheer whispered back, there was no mistaking the love in his voice, the welcome in his gaze. He lifted his big hand, brushed the fall of bright, moon-bleached hair back. Draco rolled his head into the caress. His lips pressed into the rough skin. He kissed the hand. Nuzzled it, his eyes drifting shut to savor the feel of the contact, the scent, musky spice, Mantheer's scent, one that he could recognize from his entire life. How easy it was to go from that to taste, his parted mouth coming to rest on the thinner skin of Mantheer's wrist, over the third pulse point he'd felt so far. He sucked, tasted, tongue slipping out to cautiously lap at the faintly salty skin.

Matheer's response was a quiet exhalation, a shiver that Draco couldn't miss. Oh. Gods. Impossible. He leaned forward and down, caught and held, with long, long seconds of anticipation before their lips met. A faint sweep of lips to lips, soft, as tiny wings. Profound touch. They came together again. Lips pressing this time. Innocent of lust, full of love. It rushed through Draco like sweet golden fire.


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter 71

 

Lucius Malfoy sat at his desk facing the vast gardens outside. He rolled the slim bit of metal in his hand. The ancient band was sleek and beautiful. Until this day it had never left the arm of the woman he had given it to. Not since the moment he had bestowed it and the honor it represented to her. Now it never would touch her flesh again. He felt an unexpected pang of loss.

Narcissa Malfoy was gone. She had renounced him and their vows. She had left him a letter as well as this token of their union, severing all that had been between them, leaving only the pain, the memory of her betrayal, now twice. Lucius rubbed his lip thoughtfully.

With her abandonment a host of new problems arose. Draco was now not his son. Draco he could confirm as his son, but that would take time. He would have to go through the rituals and once the rest of the pride approved, he could formally adopt Draco. The line went through the females, it was the way of the pride. He almost groaned with the pain that Draco would feel when he learned of his mother's departure. She had rejected him. Draco, the one who even more than her royal husband, had stood beside her. 

She had left after all these years, she wrote her reasons in her precise, elegant hand. The most blatant of which she had underlined in broad, dark strokes of her pen. "You have taken your catamite to your bed, the same bed you denied to me. Not once in all our years was I permitted to sleep in it, yet he spreads his legs for you there every night. So, explain this to your new wife and see if *she* will permit it."

Lucius drew in a deep breath. That in of itself was problem enough but Draco was also pregnant. Which meant if Draco was not the king's son, then the child he carried was not the pride's heir. Lucius shook his head. In two months time the magically aided pregnancy would be completed. Not enough time, in all likelihood to confirm Draco. The child, blessed as it was, miracle that it was, would not be the heir. The sacrifice would be for nothing. 

Amrys would not be the Sire. Not unless he wished and Draco permitted him to father a second child. Draco had said with absolute conviction, that it was his destiny to carry the heir, the seer Kaithas had agreed. The Seer, Gwyddion Llyr, had not denied it, nor, Lucius realized, had he confirmed the child's destiny, he had merely said how welcomed and loved he would be. So. There was that to hang on to. The child would have love. He would have a place in the pride. He would have happiness.

Lucius wracked his brain trying to remember the words the Seer had used. He had called Amrys the Sire and Draco the Mother of the heir. Yet, once he had touched Draco's belly and the mind of the child, Llyr had not called the growing fetus the heir again. Was that significant? He had given his blessing. Had he said to whom? Had he used the title? Lucius could not remember. He needed to know for his own peace. He shook his head. 

There were other problems. As if more were needed. He was king of the pride. He was the line of royalty that stretched back forever, way into the distant past. And the king had a duty to the pride. He, Lucius Malfoy, would have to re-marry. It was not a problem for him, though he had no real desire to. But, he had learned enough to know who it would be a problem for. Harry. His Chosen. He would have to endure the parade of candidates for the position of Lucius' wife.

Then the courtship. Harry would not do well watching the lover he protected and kept from others as much as he possibly could, court the future queen bride. For once she had borne his children she would be turned, she would become the queen and rule with him, if not precisely beside him. The pride dynamics were exact. The pride was ruled by the three. The queen held dominion only over the females. But once she carried his children and birthed them, she would be the Mother of the heir. Another blow, both to Draco and to Harry. And to Amrys. Who would not be the Sire.

The king could not deny his wife, not without great reason. Nor did Lucius feel he should. But he knew the Chosen would feel that he was betrayed. 

Harry's expectation, his demand would be that if Lucius married against the will of the Chosen, that the marriage not be consummated, that it be a marriage in name only. Harry had no intention of doling out even more bits of his lover, the king, to another person. Someone who would usurp his rightful position. Someone who would attend the pride's gatherings on the arm of the king.

Harry, Lucius was positive, didn't make a distinction between Chosen and Wife. He considered himself the wife in all things but name, of the king. Narcissa had been easy to ignore. But, a new and no doubt beautiful, seductive wife? Harry would explode. He would shed blood before he would take second place. 

Not only had Narcissa declared their marriage null and void, not only had she denied Draco, the son who still loved her, but she had also sent notices of the dissolution to all the other kings. The bride candidates could begin arriving any second. Exempted from the wards by long custom and the laws. A courting party could not be barred. Not until the king was wed.

Lucius dropped his head down to rest in his hand.

At that moment, as Amrys sensed the disturbance in the king and headed that way, Harry rounded the corner of the great hall, running smack into the small contingent of strangers entering the Arena. He stopped. Staring at them. At the beautiful young woman who stood in the center of the five person group. 

"Who are you?" He asked, knowing she was not one of the pride's women. She looked down her perfect nose at him, lifting her chin. He frowned. 

"I am Chrythys and I will be the wife of the king. Out of my way young-ling." She said, haughtily. The guardian standing closest to Harry made to push him aside. Harry bristled.

"Over my dead body." He snarled at the woman. He turned his face towards the man who's hand had almost touched him. "Do not touch me. And no one is marrying my king."

The voice that came from behind Harry was carefully neutral. The pride's third moved up, placed an arm around the thin shoulders. "What occurs here?" Graeme asked. Harry was rigid with indignation.

"This kitten seeks to bar us from entry. We have the right to court the unwed king. The laws so state. Move him out of our way." The woman ordered, tossing her head.

"He has a right to stand where he will. He is the Chosen." Graeme retorted. "And our king is wed already."

"His wife has renounced him. She announced it to all but you." The lady said, a satisfied smirk on her face. "So stand aside, leopard. I will court the king."

Harry strained against Graeme's hold. Graeme wrapped his arm tighter.

"How wise you are, then if you wish to rule here, to antagonize and make an enemy of the king's Chosen, and of his third." Graeme sneered. She faltered, looking at Harry again.

"He is a kitten. Barely of age. He can not truly be the Chosen." Her voice was finally less than certain. He was sure her beauty had made people refuse her few things. She was not used to not getting every thing she wanted or asked for. Harry hissed at her, finally relaxing fractionally in Graeme's hold. His emerald eyes were filled with warning. She flinched back from the look.

"Oh, lady, but he is. He is." Graeme let her see his teeth as he smiled.


	72. Chapter 72

Chapter 72

 

"No." Harry said.

"No?" Lucius asked.

"No." Harry confirmed.

"But..." Lucius ventured.

"No." Harry said. 

"Hmmm." Lucius volunteered.

"No." Harry reasserted.

"It is customary." Lucius tried next.

"No." Harry told him, brows lowering over his glittering emerald eyes.

"It does not touch on my love for you." Lucius offered. He touched Harry's cheek gently. "It is part of the courtship."

"No." Harry shook his head. He turned into the hand, loved it. He was not sharing with anyone new.

"I must remarry." Lucius said, quiet but firm. "There is no way around it."

"No." Harry was more certain that ever. He lifted his eyes to meet those pale ones of his lover. "The Seer said we can not be parted. The pride needs you as its king. But, I will not stand by and watch you wed."

"It is the law, Harry." Lucius began, trying to make his voice soothing. Harry stiffened.

"Never say those words to me as justification." He spat out. "I am sick and tired of them. I have looked the other way as you have taken Fred and Troy to your furs. I will not do the same while you take some woman and name her your wife and queen. It is too much. Making more babies with her. No."

"I can not stop it, it has begun and will go on until I have taken a new wife. You did not say anything against Narcissa." Lucius pointed that fact out.

"She was from before I came to the pride. You *never* went to her bed. I never smelled her scent on you. She was the past." Harry growled. "I won't put up with a woman who wants you, who you want. Who you will take to bed."

"You are my Chosen. There is no one who I want more than you." Lucius told the youth, truthfully. "I will take no other into my own bed."

"Yet you continue to pile lovers up higher and higher, in other beds, telling me I must allow it. That it should not bother me. That I should be happy for you? No!" He yelled the last. "I won't watch you do this! You won't marry!"

"I am required to wed the woman the pride chooses, Harry. She has the right of refusal, not I." Lucius tried again to reason with the furious Chosen. Harry vibrated with outrage.

"No." Harry responded, jaw clenched. 

"I must. Harry I can't say no." Lucius pleaded, feeling an edge of worry building. Harry was more determined than he'd been before, there was a new quality, a resolve that hadn't been present.

"I know you can't say no." Harry snorted bitterly. "I also know that the Seer said you and I must remain together. So. I will go to the pride and I will refuse in your stead."

"Harry, you can not. The laws..." Lucius started, laying a hand on his Chosen's forearm.

"Do not spout your laws at me!" Harry roared, shaking the hand off. "I am sick and tired of it. I. Will. Not. Allow. This. Mark my words, Lucius Malfoy. The pride will listen to me. And you will not take a new wife. Period."

There was the sound of a throat clearing at the door. Both men turned to face the interloper, neither had a welcoming expression. It was Kaithas. The seer did not look happy.

"Lucius, my king. There are over a hundred women waiting to meet with you. They are filling the Arena, you have kept them waiting for hours. It is time for you to meet them." He cast a wary glance at the Chosen. Harry stood up. Kaithas gulped, the power that radiated off the Chosen was not a good combination when coupled with the pure rage he saw in the beautiful face. Harry going to the Arena with them would be a disaster.

"The king goes alone by custom, he can not court the brides with his Chosen at his side. I will escort..." The seer began. Harry cut him off.

"If he goes at all, he goes with me. He will not go to them alone. Make your choice, seer." His eyes were narrowed, dangerous. Kaithas looked at Lucius. Lucius shrugged, his face blank, offering no answers.

Kaithas bowed and gestured for them to follow him. Harry took the king's arm. Lucius had enough sense not to protest. He would ease Harry into this. Harry would come around. He was sure of it. It would just take time.

An audible gasp was the greeting they received as they entered the full Arena. There were at least a thousand people in the room. They dwarfed even its vast confines. Each woman had her escort, at least two, more often five or even in a few cases six. They turned as one to watch as the king and the seer entered. That was not all that unusual, to have the seer of a pack or pride accompany the king, but the third person. The boy. The one that was whispered to be the scandalously young Chosen was also here. That had never happened before in recent or distant memory.

Harry ignored the shocked whispers, striding to the elevated stone throne, the one place not even the bravest of the women had dared ascend. He leaped up onto the top, dragging Lucius with him. He forestalled the king's words with a lifted brow, his face rigid and unyielding, daring the man to protest. Lucius decided to back down for now. Harry turned and looked out over the many faces.

"I know why you are here. You seek to court the king of this pride. I have been told that this is the custom when a king is un-wed, widowed, or renounced by his wife. I am told the laws of the pride permit you to come here, to offer yourself to the pride as the future wife of the free king." He paused looking from face to face.

"Who are you to speak to us?" Some one shouted. "We are here to be in the company of the king. Go away with you!"

There was a roar of approval. Harry waited until it died down. Then he lifted his chin. 

"You want to know who I am. You think you know me. You think you know what I am capable of, what I will do. You do not. I am Harry Potter. I am the Chosen of the pride. I am also the lover of the king. And I come before you to tell you, damn your laws. None of you will be marrying my king. I lay claim to him. He is mine. And I am his. If he needs to take a wife, I will be the one he takes. I am fed up with all this." He waved his arm, including much more than the current circumstance.

"Idiot boy, you are male, you cannot be a wife." Another voice yelled. Harry's grip on Lucius' hand tightened painfully. Lucius winced, prompting Harry to relax the hold, but he didn't let go.

"I say to you, I will be the one he takes to wife. None of you." Harry declared. "Leave this place, there is nothing here for you."

"You can't do that!" A woman screamed, "It is our right...."

"No!" Harry blazed with rage. "I say it is not. I will not permit it. Enough. I will not give up any more."

"You can not stop it!"

"It is you who must leave, go back to the other young-lings!"

"This business doesn't concern you!" 

"You can't stop us!"

The offended crowd surged forward as if to lay hands on him. Harry smiled, not a pretty sight, his fangs making themselves known.

"Oh? But, I think I can." Harry said. He flung his arms out, finally letting go of Lucius. "I say to all of you, leave this place, begone." The room was flooded with light, bright as the sun, burning, and there were a thousand pops, as every person vanished in that split second. Apparated away. 

Lucius Malfoy stood behind the shaking figure of the boy in front of him, He looked around, astonished, right then left. They were all gone. He would have bet his life this was impossible even with a roomful of wizards who were vulnerable to the workings of magic. But, with the more magic resistant lycanthropes, he was floored, his knees unsteady. Harry had done this. This act that no dozen wizards Lucius knew could have done, not even working in tandem. His Chosen had done it single handedly, was still on his feet, though he was swaying a bit. Lucius put his hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry jumped, then settled.

"Harry. What have you done?"

"What I had to do," Harry replied. "I will not share you with a wife. I meant what I said. If you want to marry, take me as your wife." 

Lucius opened his mouth to dispute the possibility of that. Then he frowned, looking around again at the empty room. "Merlin's balls, Harry! What have you done with Kaithas?"

Harry winced. "Ooops." He muttered.


	73. Chapter 73

Chapter 73

 

"Harry?" Draco shuffled in to the room. He lowered himself gingerly onto the piled furs. He was stiff and creaky this morning. He let out a sigh as he sat down, then he shifted and lay down, ahhh, that was better. "I heard what happened. Can't say I am surprised. We've been pushing you, the pride, I mean."

"I had to Draco, I can' t take more than I already have. I know it's against the custom or the law, or tradition, but..." Harry shook his head. "Your dad is mad at me isn't he?" 

"No. I thought he would be, but...no, he doesn't seem angry." Draco responded. "He is acting more like....he is surprised, than anything else. No one else could have done what you did, Harry. That kind of power within the pride, it is important, you know. He can't just tell you not to use it. It makes the pride stronger. It protects the pride, that is one of the primary goals of the king, you know."

Harry nodded miserably. "I just...I can't, share any more of him than I am already, Draco. I am just now starting to accept the others, now this...marriage thing. Forgive me, but I really hate your mother right now."

"Nothing to forgive. I am pretty pissed at her myself. She has just rejected me and my *child*, in one fell swoop and did it in front of the whole pride. After my father refused to dishonor her despite what she had done to him and indirectly to me. He stood by her for *years*, refusing to deny her, protecting her. Then she has to make her grand gesture." Draco sighed, his hand fluttering tiredly, his back ached, he tried shifting position again.

"I am sorry that your mother left you to deal with it all. I can't understand why she would do something like that to you. If she'd warned you, or talked to you, maybe..." Harry said to him. He held a mug out to the other youth. "Hot tea, take it, I added honey to it, you look like you need it. What is going to happen to you and the heir?"

"That is one of the things we need to talk about. And how to solve your problem, too." Draco said, wincing. Harry helped his friend settle more comfortably, straightening the furs. He pulled a pillow over and wedged it behind Draco's back. Draco sighed in relief, smiling his thanks. His belly was rapidly growing and was quite visibly rounded now. Harry kept his hand on Draco's thigh, patting him comfortingly. Harry had a good touch, a healing touch.

"Like how? I am not backing down and letting Lucius marry one of those women." Harry pursued the conversation. He hand remained gentle, conveying nothing but caring, no misdirected anger. Draco pondered that, Harry, once he decided to be your friend, went all the way for you. "That is not going to be part of the solution."

"No. I don't think that you should. I know how hard it has been on you, learning to live with the pride like this. I think you have done better with it than just about anyone else could. It hit you out of the blue, I mean usually someone in your family would have been a were-animal and petitioned the king for you to be changed. We almost never take on new members who don't have a relative who is also were. It must have been hard for you. I know it was." Draco touched Harry's shoulder, squeezed it. Harry looked at him, concerned.

"Are you OK, Draco? I thought you were getting better." Harry said. Draco was pale and he was moving funny.

"I was, I mean, I am better. I just spent too much time in the stone room last night. Yaji and Mantheer are furious. It's...they....uhm...well that's one reason I was looking for a way to make this work. I don't want to have to do this again. Not because I have to. I am happy I am pregnant, I thought I'd hate it, but I don't. Next time I do this I want it to be out of love, not duty. I mean I love the baby, a thousand times more than I expected. I think I am in love with them, too, Harry. I don't want to have Amrys impregnate me again. The next time I have sex, I want it to be with Yaji and Mantheer." Draco was blushing. Harry stared at his friend. Then he grinned.

"Never thought I'd hear the day when you'd talk about wanting to sleep with a man! Congrats! But," he sobered quickly, "what were you looking for in the laws? How can that help, Draco? Everyone always uses the laws to tell me what I *can't* do. Nothing else. The laws have never been on my side, not for anything. I can't believe they'd help me in something like this, you know." Harry was bitter.

"I've had Kaithas call for Gwyddion Llyr. I have some questions for him. But, I wanted you to know I am working on something. And if it works out I want you to promise me that you'll help me. Whatever it takes." Draco was serious as he sipped the hot tea, he put his free hand on Harry's knee. Harry moved his hand over it, they held hands, comfortably, both at ease with the contact.

"Kaithas!" It came out as a groan. Harry smiled in spite of himself. "I don't think he'll ever forgive me. I sent him out in the middle of a swamp, Draco. He was soaked with water and sludge. Lucius made me wash his hair and help him with his bath, it took hours to scrape it all off."

"He is still annoyed with you, that is for sure." Draco confirmed. "That's not why we need to talk though." 

Harry nodded. "Anything I can do, you are my friend Draco, you know I don't abandon my friends. I'll stick by you."

"I know Harry. But this is different, it is sort of....well...weird." The blond said.

"Weird? Now I am getting interested. I can do weird. Weird how?" 

"I sat in that room and read every word in it. Every law that might pertain to the wife of the king I wrote down." Draco shook the sheaf of papers he'd brought with him at the other man. Harry looked impressed at the stack. "Don't look impressed, I wasn't studying them and I might be wrong."

"Wrong about what? I 'm still waiting to hear this idea of yours. Are you going to keep me in suspense or tell me?" Harry was wheedling when he finished his request. He was very curious. "Come on Draco, tell me. What your plan?"

"None of the laws that I read specified the wife of the pride's king had to be female. In fact the word wife is not used at all. Not once that I found. The word used is mate. The mate of the king.... that is what is said in the laws. The king's mate.... that is also used. But, no where does it say she or her, or anything like that. No specific gender identification. And I thought if I can be the Mother, why can't you be the Mate? I can't see much of a difference between the two situations."

"But, I can't bear him children, doesn't it say something about that? Doesn't his mate have to bear him children?" Harry asked, unwilling to believe that it could be so simple, so easy. That he actually could marry his love.

"Not exactly. A child carried by the mate of the king is the pride's heir. But. It doesn't say that the mate of the king *must* bear him children. Just what fate those children will have if they are born." Draco shrugged, wiggling on the furs again, readjusting his position. "Besides, Harry, even if most male were-leopards can't have children, I bet you could, you are that powerful I wouldn't say anything was impossible."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, brow furrowed in concentration. "Not about me having kids, about me being able to marry Lucius?"

"No. I think I am right, uh, but I am not sure. That 's why I am going to talk to Gwyddion. The Seer. You remember." Draco replied. He squeezed Harry's hand again.

"I do remember. And I also remember his friend, the other seer. The one who couldn't keep his hands off of our alpha. He won't be coming back will he?" The growl was unmistakable. Draco bit his lip hard to keep from laughing at Harry's outrage.

"Why should you care if we find out what we need to know, Harry?" Draco asked. "No one is going to mess with you after what you did to the bride-candidates. Not even that skinny Barethes."

"Barethes." Harry breathed. He showed his teeth at the memory of Barethes sprawled happily, and clingy, on top of the pride king. Draco, bit his lip harder. He cleared his throat to distract the raven haired Chosen.

"He isn't important, Harry. Listen to me. If I am right, that means you can marry my father. And if you marry my father that means you can adopt me and my child. The line moves through the female. The queen's side." He said urgently. "Would you be willing to do that for me, for us?"

"What?" Harry burst out, obviously disconcerted. "I am not a queen."

"If you marry my father you will be. The mate of the king is the queen." Draco asserted. "Like I said, the situation is the same as with me. I am the Mother, or at least I was, yet I am still male."

"Draco, I am definitely getting a headache, here." Harry moaned. "Scoot over I want to lay down."

"It is simple. The Mother is sacred to the pride. The mate of the king is sacred to the pride. The female is sacred to the pride. She is the bringer of life. My father is king. His father was king. My son will be king. If I am adopted by my father. Then I will be his son again. My mother denied that I was her son when she renounced Lucius and their vows. Do you see?"

"Nope. But, tell me what you want me to do. I'll do it." Harry said, snuggling up to Draco. He was beginning to see why the lycanthropes liked to be in piles of cuddling bodies. It was nice to be up close and personal. Even with people who were not his lovers. He sure liked sleeping with Lucius, Amrys and Graeme. Probably as much as he'd like to sleep with Lucius alone. he just wasn't going to admit it out loud. Not yet.


	74. Chapter 74

Chapter 74

 

Severus Snape waved his wand over the nicely rounded belly. Draco's baby was growing quickly, at least thrice as fast as a normal pregnancy. Not at all uncommon for a magically aided gestation. The baby was, to every appearance, hale and hearty. Draco himself was at last looking healthy, his color improving and his energy on the mend. 

The two guardians who seemed to be his near constant companions were hovering, both sets of sharp eyes fixed on the wizard's face, waiting for the verdict. Snape fought to control the irritation he felt at being watched so closely. It was good, he told himself, that Draco was being protected so intently. One of them maintained contact with the blond young man at all times. Either touching with a hand or other body part, not intrusively, but always there, always supporting him. Always watchful.

"You are doing very well. The child will be born soon. The wounds you sustained from Andromeda are just about gone." Snape reassured Draco and secondarily the two large companions. Yaji ran a large, dark hand down Draco's side, gentle as petting a kitten. "I think you have no more than another two weeks, perhaps less. Then we will have to deliver the child."

"That soon?" Draco asked, more anxiously than Snape expected. It was impossible to miss the note of worry. He gripped the hand that was in his. Mantheer leaned in closer, making an almost inaudible purring sound of comfort. 

"There is no need to be concerned, the child is healthy," Severus began, only to have Draco shake his head and look up at the taller of his two shadows. The man reached out and stroked his shining cap of hair, his palm coming to rest, cupping the pale cheek. Snape raised his brows at the sheer possessiveness of the touch, but only kept on speaking, his voice steady and matter of fact. "I will check with you every day. In another week I will come and stay with you at the Manor, until the child is born. You needn't worry."

"He is concerned because, if the child is born before he is adopted by the queen, then the child will not be acknowledged as the pride's heir." The muscular guardian Mantheer said quietly, while Draco permitted himself to be lifted up out of the furs and hugged. His pale eyes were haunted with dread. Big arms surrounded him.

Snape blinked. That was a new twist. "I thought he was already acknowledged as the heir." Snape stated. Then he asked. "What has happened to alter that?"

"He was, then the wife of the king left him. She denied her son." That was the towering Yaji, showing a mouth full of fangs and plenty of anger. Snape regarded him thoughtfully. He fought his surprise. He would have bet Narcissa would have held on to her position as Queen with both taloned hands, needing to be pried away nail by nail. She enjoyed the position and the power it gave her, the prestige. Snape was as close to shocked as he'd ever been, that she had voluntarily left Lucius.

"When did this happen?" Snape asked sharply, turning his attention back to Draco who was fidgeting restlessly. Mantheer rubbed his face along the crown of Draco's head. His dark eyes blazed.

"Two weeks past." Draco said. He wouldn't meet the other wizard's inquiring gaze.

"Delightful." Was what Snape said in return. "I told you to avoid stress, yet you didn't think to mention this before now?" He no doubt would not have heard anything even now if the guard had not spoken up. Draco had learned to keep pride business secret at the knee of his father. The ultimate stoic.

Then again, the drama had been learned at the foot of another master, his mother, Narcissa Malfoy. She had a gift to turning every situation to her own advantage. Until she undermined herself with the lie to the Were-leopard king. She had dug the hole too deep that time. Despite her beauty and her wiles, he had never taken her back into his bed or into his affections. Yet, Lucius had still cared enough not to denounce her, or their son Draco. No. It was Narcissa herself who suddenly decided to make her grand gesture and reject her own son. Snape was appalled by her complete lack of maternal and parental instinct.

Suddenly, Snape frowned, a thought occurring to him that demanded an answer. "If Narcissa has left, then who is this queen who will be adopting you?" Gods forbid there be another, newer version of Narcissa waiting in the wings. The answer he received took him aback.

"Oh, uhm, Harry. Harry is going to adopt me. He is the queen." Draco explained, quite distracted by the soft, wet tongue licking at the side of his neck, "Uh, or he will be soon. Be queen I mean. As soon as father marries him."

Severus Snape was now caught in a quandary. Draco seemed utterly, completely serious, not at all as if he was pulling his former professor's leg. But, Snape was having a hard time not bursting out into laughter. If he had been a man given to casual amusement, he would have been laughing already. As it was, he was having a hell of a time not chuckling. The too serious Harry Potter, a bloody queen. He sniffed delicately, concentrating on methodically replacing his implements and herbs in the shrinking satchel he'd brought with him. Once done, he looked at his patient, the urge to laugh successfully contained.

"Hmm. I can see I am woefully behind on the news." Snape said with quiet dignity, biting his tongue hard, fighting the twitch at his lip that threatened to bloom into a grin. The pride was an interesting place to spend any amount of time. "Do you have any further questions today?"

Uhm." Said Draco. He very carefully didn't meet Snape's eye. Severus waited patiently for the question he strongly suspected was coming.

"Yes?" He encouraged, when Draco seemed unable to continue. The were-leopards were abruptly more restless. Moving in the background, uttering low growls, sensing his upset. They glared at Snape. He drew up to his full, normally intimidating height and stared right back, waiting.

"Can I have sex?" The youth whispered. Sex. Snape congratulated himself on the sheer predictability of young male Homo sapiens sapiens. Mankind of the teen-aged variety.

"Yes of course, why would you.....oh, I see. Hmmm." Snape was now reevaluating all the touching that had been going on. Not protective. Not exclusively. He kept his eyes on Draco, not giving in to the desire to stare at the two huge hunks fussing over his former student. Draco was not talking about heterosexual sex. Nor, if Severus was any judge was he talking about being the dominant partner. From the few encounters Snape had with the were-animals, he guessed Draco would be the lucky receiver of all that attention and energy the men behind him were barely able to control even now. 

Draco was beet red.

"Well. No. I would have to say I would not advise that kind of activity." Snape said managing to keep his tone even. He was studying the two huge men, remembering how it had felt to take Amrys inside of his own body. And Amrys was not so large as these two. Draco was also proportionally smaller than himself. No, *not* a good idea. He shook his head.

"You are not built to carry a child, Draco. Your body is less protective of the child. I think it best if that kind of....extreme penetration...anal intercourse, not be attempted until after the birth of your child." Severus said. And Draco nodded, his color gradually returning to normal. "Aside from penetration, I would think other gentle sexually pleasing activities should not cause any harm."

Draco sighed, the flush fading slightly. "Thank you Professor Snape."

"I will be by to see you tomorrow morning." Severus Snape said. "I trust you will send for me if there is any change or concern before then. Remember. Rest. No stress. Eat well and exercise moderately." He turned to go. Draco called out after him as he reached the door.

"Don't forget to stop by and see Amrys. He has been asking after you." Draco called. Snape fought the inexorable tide of his own blush. 

'Yes,' He thought to himself, 'I believe I will.'

It was less than half an hour later that Severus found himself flat on his back with his legs in the air, enjoying every moment of the undignified position, as Amrys reminded him of just how incredible sex with one particular lycanthrope was. His eyes rolled up in his head as Amrys lapped at his throat, teeth grazing ever so carefully. Gods.


	75. Chapter 75

Chapter 75

 

Harry was sitting in the dark, a bare shadow in the corner of the room, a pale ghost, sitting on top of the furs that were the rooms only furnishings. He was alone, Graeme noted. 

Graeme didn't bother to ask why Harry was sitting alone in the dark, thinking. He could feel the agonizing the boy was going through from where he stood. If he needed any more proof, Harry never reacted or turned to see who it was when Graeme entered the room, too deep in his own thoughts to notice he was no longer the only one in the room.

The decision for Harry to marry Lucius was the wrong one, unwise and unsafe. Graeme, as much as he unwillingly understood Harry's feelings and how far he had been pushed, believed that. The traditions were wrong in this one case, but they should, they had to, be upheld. Lucius would lose much needed support and allies if he wed the boy instead of a female bride. Wed the correct female and Lucius would gain immeasurably. To the pride's benefit.

But. Harry was in pain. He had begun to accept small changes, allowed himself to enjoy being held, touched by others. He was starting to accept what it was to be pride. What Graeme was struggling to teach him. Only there was so much more he had to know, to experience, to accept.

Yet, none other had bedded him. It was not right. It should change, Harry should live the role of Chosen to the fullest extent, not use the title as he was to stay near Lucius and for naught else. He had to be the Chosen for the pride, not for only his own interests. But, Harry was too wrapped up in the changes to calm and look at the events objectively. He was too bound up in the threat of loss to step back and listen to reason.

Graeme was here to do what he could to alter that. He stepped forward coming up close behind the Chosen, not missing the tension in the slender back. Smelling the fear. Knowing that what he was going to do, what he had to do, what was his duty to do was going to make it worse if he wasn't careful and unbelievably lucky. Harry was not going to want to take what Graeme offered, what he needed to have. What the Chosen was entitled to, what the third could provide to him. Yet, it was right. It was the way of the pride. And Harry was now pride.

Graeme, when Harry still didn't react to his nearness slid in behind the youth, shaping his body around the stiff and cool skinned one. Chilled. Graeme held him close. Harry jumped, drawing in a sharp, scared breath. Graeme wrapped his arms around him, murmuring his comfort, offering his own body's heat.

"Harry." He said, very quietly. "Will you listen to me? To what I have to say?"

"No. Don't. Please. Graeme. Please?" Harry's reply was a faint whisper of sound. His hands clutched at the arms that held him, making it clear he was talking about the words he didn't want to hear, that he knew were coming. Not the touch. Not the offer of companionship. That, he wanted, craved.

He shivered, prompting Graeme to hold him closer, feeling how Harry melted into his embrace. And he noted once more that the way this defiant young man surrendered was the most exquisite act that Graeme ever witnessed. When he'd seen it happen for Lucius, his king, it had been breathtaking. Now, the trust, the submission, was so much more. It humbled him, for he knew his own acts of surrender had never been so thorough nor so deep and complete. But, he would try.

"I can't do what you ask." Harry breathed against the forearm that was around him. Graeme wondered briefly through the growing frustration how he could give in so...perfectly on one point, physically, yet remain absolutely steeled against another point, unyielding.

"You are not doing this."Graeme growled. Even as he nuzzled the soft curls of hair at Harry's nape. "You aren't thinking about really doing it are you?"

"Doing what?" Harry asked, honestly puzzled. He was distracted by the muscles surrounding him, the warm hands running up and down his cold arms. The long legs that were spread on either side of his own. They felt good. And the thick, very long chestnut/auburn hair that enfolded him, fell over his own shoulder, across his chest, Graeme's luxurious locks. He turned his face involuntarily into the silken strands, smelled Graeme's male musk on them, closed his eyes and breathed. His heart beat began to accelerate.

"Forcing Lucius to marry you. It will cost him too much. That is not the role of the Chosen. To cost the pride." Graeme said so quietly, so gently, that it took a moment for Harry to understand what he had said. He frowned, but it was hard to be angry, he felt drained instead. He struggled inwardly to marshal his righteous indignation.

"I am not forcing him to marry me. But, I am not going to stand by and let him marry someone else." Was the sharp retort, the sharpness faded quickly though, as Graeme continued his petting. It was mesmerizing being touched like this. Not sexually, but sensually. The touch wandering over his chest, his belly down over his trembling thighs. Harry had no urge to progress to sex, but he wanted this, whatever it was, to continue. Even while he was getting a bit mad. The pride's third was explaining.

"It is the way of the pride. The king must be married. Even if no other member of the pride is married, the king must be wed. It is tradition. Alliances depend on it, the stability of the prides and packs, the nests. The relations between the kings, it all relies on the traditions, knowing what to expect from each other." Graeme said against the skin of Harry's neck. Harry lifted his chin, let the feeling of that hot breath move over him like a wave. His skin tightened, softened, he moaned, dragging his answer from himself. Forcing it out in words that Graeme could decipher.

"There is nothing in the laws that say the bride of the king must be female. And are you implying none of the other kings have taken male lovers? Are they horrified by the thought?" Harry asked, even as he let his eyes fall closed, let his body fall back to rest more securely in the man's arms. He wanted the fangs on him, scraping his throat, yes, just like that.

"Think, kitten. The Queens will not tolerate it. The females are half of us, it is their traditional position of power. They won't give it up to you. Any more than the males will let a queen rule the pride, or any group. They won't let you start a precedent." Graeme said, when he had lifted his head from the bite-able flesh. Harry didn't react to the statement. Graeme sighed. Now the hard part. 

"It is always been. It is tradition that the king marry a female. You will not prevent him." He said, making his voice firm and commanding. Harry's answer was just as firm, but not so commanding. Still, Graeme knew the youth meant it, every word.

"Yes. Graeme, I will. I won't stand by and let him take a woman, or anyone but myself to wed."

"It is not your choice. You have no say. Relent, don't pit yourself against tradition."

"I do." Harry sighed, rolling so he lay half atop Graeme, pinning him as much as Graeme held him. His fingers dug in, not hurting but far stronger than he should have been. "If there is one among the female brides who thinks she can take me, then let her try. I will stand against any and all of them, each one who comes for him. They will not win him from me, I claim him as my own."

"No. It will turn the other kings against him." Graeme insisted, testing the kitten's hold, finding it secure, unbreakable, yet not painful. "You must not force him to this." He said meaning two things.

"I have to." Harry's eyes filled with tears, also meaning two things. His hand wound in the long hair, tightening. "Don't you understand?"

"I do, Harry. More than you believe I do." Graeme said, at last. "I know you love him. I know you want him. I know you are Draco's friend and you don't want to see him and his child displaced."

"And...the other?" Harry asked. Moving up and over the larger man, pressing him back into the furs, the fire growing in his eyes, even as it burned in his belly.

"You are my king's Chosen. My pride's Chosen, I am here." Graeme said, partly answering Harry's question.

Graeme raised Harry's hand to his mouth and licked the shaking palm. A long, wet stroke of his tongue. Harry gasped, trying to pull away.

"No." He said. "I won't hurt you."

"Harry. Gods damn it. It won't hurt me. Use me. This is what I am here for. I am supposed to be for you. Don't you understand?" Graeme snapped. Harry was dazed-looking, his wants battling hard with his conscience. His impression of right and wrong.

"I..." He bent down without thought and raked his suddenly leopard fangs across the throat of his third. He felt the shiver, the bending to his will, the tremors in the body of the other. It drew everything within his belly tight. Surrender. He growled. Panted. Burned. "This..."

"Yes. You are alpha for this night." Graeme whispered, going soft and receptive. "Take what you need from me. Let me serve."

Harry moved in, claws sprouting from one instant to the next, long and sharp. He sliced the clothing from the tall, strong body, not so carefully, drawing tiny drops of blood as well. He leaned down, licked at them, at the wounds, tasted salt, copper, male, heat, lust....


	76. Chapter 76

Chapter 76

 

Lucius watched as the young man licked the raw scratches decorating the long, muscular legs that were parted accommodatingly for him, his two hands, small and square with long, agile fingers, were clutched around the thick wrists he held. Graeme's eyes had locked onto Lucius as soon as he entered, but the third had said nothing, didn't move or try to free himself, not alerting Harry that the king was here.

The thick, raven curls were plastered to Harry's wet cheeks, he could smell the tang of sweat and arousal, Lucius thought the youth was the most beautiful sight he had seen, holding Graeme's wrists, flushed with heat, panting, his tongue flicking out, lapping at Graeme's skin, his flesh, rubbing his face along the powerful thighs and groin. Ignoring the erection that was tautly pressed, straining, against the third's abdomen. Lucius bared his fangs soundlessly and stepped nearer.

The big hand in his hair took a moment to register. Then Harry spun around, coming face to face with Lucius. He gasped, wanting to blurt out an apology, to beg for forgiveness, but it wasn't censure or accusation that was in the king's expression. Lucius forced the youth back down, until he lay sprawled on top of Graeme. Then the big man followed him down. Lucius transferred his gaze from huge, emerald green ones to the dark blue eyes.

"Your timing could use some work." Graeme muttered from under Harry, actually not minding that Harry's nicely rounded buttocks were pressed down on his pelvis. He made himself lay still, waiting for his king to speak, the only action he took was to wrap his arms around Harry's torso to steady him. Lucius' eyes blazed, his lips thinning, and Graeme wished he had not made even that small joke. His king was in no mood for it.

"You were going to allow him to be alpha?" Lucius asked, his speech clipped and very precise. Rarely a good sign. "You were going to submit to him?"

"Yes." Graeme said, forehead wrinkling as he realized his king was very angry, barely controlling his temper. Then, it, the anger, won free....a bit.

"NO." The king growled. "Not this time and not ever, until I tell you."

"Yes, my king." Graeme murmured, canting his head a little to the side, baring his throat, trying to soothe his king, laying trapped under the Chosen. He was surprised to have his king protest. He was not prepared for the very clear anger in the other man. Lucius leaned down, his second hand fisting in Graeme's hair, twisting hard. Harry moved a tiny bit off to one side.

"I do not want my Chosen going to you or to any other for something I can not give him. I will never lay under him, I will never beta for him." Lucius ground out. "And you will not either. He is not alpha." He shook his third by the fistful of hair. 

"Yes, my king." Graeme returned, pushing down his shock. Lucius shoved Harry further to the side, coming to rest fully on top of Graeme. He was hard, erect, dominant. Fierce.

"Did I offer him to you?" Lucius snarled. Graeme blinked. Some how he knew that the offers of the past were not what Lucius was asking him about. That, in the king's mind, they did not stand, had no relevance here and now. He shook his head the little that was allowed him in the tight grip.

"No, my king." He whispered, knowing he was on uncharted ground, that he had to learn the new rules or suffer. "I presumed."

"You wish to usurp what is mine?" Lucius hissed at him, bringing their faces very close. His strong grip hard, still caressing. "Are you challenging me, my third?" His pale eyes glittered. He shared the vision of his lethal teeth.

"No, my king." Graeme whispered again. He fought down the urge to free himself. His heart was pounding. Adrenaline rushing, wanting him to move, to react, to respond and defend. And he would have, if this was not his king who crouched over him.

"Then show me that you are not. Submit to me, not to this boy. Take the risk with me, where you will not be in control. Where I will take what I want, not what you deign to give me." Lucius demanded in the guise of asking. Graeme knew there wasn't really a choice. He lifted his chin, letting the other man see the unprotected length, the pulse at his carotid.

"I serve you my king." Graeme responded, wide-eyed, breath coming short. "Take what you will, alpha." He was ready, but it seemed someone else was not. Harry was shaking with terror, yet bravely tried to intervene.

"Lucius, Lucius. Wait." Harry was recovered enough to pull on the were-leopard king's arm. Diverting his aim. "What are you doing? Don't hurt him. Not over me."

"You defend him? When he was taking what was mine without my leave?" The king asked, dangerously low, eyes hooded, menacing. If he was not the Chosen, not beloved, then Graeme would have been truly fearful for his safety. As it was, he didn't want the young man hurt.

"What? You have made it very clear that you wanted him to do this with me. You want him to have sex with me. Are you denying it?" Harry was incredulous. His voice rose an octave, ringing with his surprise.

"Harry," Graeme hissed, urgently, "shut up." Lucius had rounded on the boy, still straddling Graeme, but his attention fixed on Harry, now. Harry didn't understand what this was, what this play meant, how it was necessary for king and third to play out between them.

"You seek to challenge me?" Lucius rumbled, warningly. His head tilted to the side watching with predatory eyes, waiting for the answer.

"No, no my king." Graeme squirmed under the larger man. "He does not. I am here, my king, let me serve. Let me show you, you are my alpha." Graeme was determined to keep Lucius' focus on him, not on the vulnerable young-ling. The young one who didn't know when he was playing with fire. Harry looked baffled, but determined, his brow wrinkling, sensing the under currents at play, but not grasping them entirely. His nervous, pink tongue lapped at his lips, Graeme nearly groaned aloud at the sight. It also drew the king's interest. Not so good.

"You are my king." Graeme said with quiet conviction that at last succeeded in drawing Lucius' attention fully back to him. Lucius let his fangs extend slowly, long and longer, Harry watched in fascination, understanding viscerally that this display was different, far more frightening than the quick transformations from human to fighting leopard. This was on the edge of control. He gasped. That brought the king's eyes back to roam over him. 

Graeme ground his teeth in frustration. He turned under Lucius, pulling his hair to one side, baring his back. He shifted his hips, undulating. It had been a long time since Lucius had asked for this but Graeme remembered how his king liked it. 

The ice-grey eyes focused on the long lines of muscle displayed before him, the very broad, intimidatingly powerful shoulders, marred with a few faint scratches, otherwise perfect, tapering down to the man's solid waist, and to the gloriously rounded mounds of his buttocks. Lucius growled. Graeme arched, intent on keeping his king focused. Lucius reached out with long claws.

Harry panicked, thinking Lucius was going to punish, to actually harm Graeme for something Harry had done. He tried to grab the king's arm, but to do it he had to lean across Graeme. Graeme caught him easily in one arm, wasting no time in dragging Harry underneath him, protecting him from the distracted swipe Lucius sent in the youth's direction. The king wasn't trying to hurt his Chosen, the third knew, just to bat him out of the way, to physically scold him and warn him off of interfering. Graeme absorbed the light smack, using the opportunity to wriggle Harry further under his own body and to tantalize the aroused king at the same time.

"Hush. Be still. Don't defy our king." Graeme hissed into Harry's ear as the boy squirmed.


	77. Chapter 77

Chapter 77

 

Harry fought until he managed to turn over, laying face up under the older and larger were-leopard. He clearly felt Graeme straining to keep the combined weight of Lucius and himself from falling onto Harry. Graeme's skin was rippling, surging, as his body attempted to shift while he battled to stay human. Harry held on with both hands, clinging and watching his king, his usually tender lover, recognizing the alpha was dangerous, for all he was moving with controlled deliberation.

Lucius was pressing down hard, both clawed hands digging into his third's shoulders. Harry was horrified to see the thin trails of blood flowing from multiple claw marks on the ivory pale shoulders. Beyond Graeme he heard Lucius growling. The long sliver blond hair had fallen away from the tie that had held it back. Now it was a curtain intermingling with Graeme's equally long, curly locks. And sticking to the sweat dewed skin of both men.

Harry lifted his hand, put it around Graeme's neck, then touched Lucius' wrist. With his other hand he reached up toward the fearsome face that snarled down. There was such rage there. Shocking rage. He had to do something. 

Graeme let out a whimpering sound, a sound of surrender, Lucius growled in satisfaction, but Harry was shaken by it. Graeme had never made a noise like that. It was so...lost, so submissive, it was unbearable. Aching. Harry pressed his lips into a bloodless line, reached up to lay his hand along the king's cheek. Lucius reared back violently, taking Graeme up with him, impaled on his claws. The ice-grey eyes changed to molten silver blue.

"Lucius?" Harry asked. "My king?" He took a hesitant step forward. Graeme made no move to free himself, in fact he tried to impose his body between Lucius and Harry. He looped his arm around his king's waist, sagging down to one hand and both knees. He pressed his face into his king's hip, mewling softly, not a Graeme sound, a kitten's sound. Harry felt all the hair on his body stand on end. He surged up to his feet.

"No, Harry. No. Don't. He needs this, don't force his hand." The third's voice was thin with pain. But he kept his arm around the king while he rubbed his face on the standing man's thigh. The position of a supplicant, asking for recognition, asking to serve.

"He can't do this!" Harry moaned. "I love him. He wouldn't do this. He wouldn't hurt you." He kept coming holding out his empty hands. 

"Harry it isn't what you think! I must submit to him." Graeme's groan left no impression on the younger man who wasn't listening. The copper haired man tried to stop the youth, but Harry evaded him, twisting away. Graeme, caught in his king's grasp couldn't lay hands on him.

"Lucius. My Chosen. I am yours." Harry said, not noticing the tears filling his own eyes. He lifted his arms upwards. "I don't know what is making you do this, I don't know anything about what is happening, but please, let him go. Don't do this. Please. I am sorry. I won't do it again. Whatever you want. I promise." Harry dropped to his knees in front of Lucius. 

Lucius stared at him. At his Chosen kneeling on the floor. His heart was pounding strongly, his nostrils flared. His Chosen, kneeling. Graeme, his third, at his feet, begging. Submitting. As it should be. Lucius roared.

He was growling his pleasure as he carried the body of his third back to the pile of furs. He lay him carefully down, approving of the way the big man refused to challenge him. Seeing how he lay open, waiting to serve. So good. Then he heard the crying of his Chosen, as the small one crawled closer, watching him warily as if afraid. Lucius felt only surprise at that. Why would Harry fear him? He held out his hand, tugging the slender youth nearer, pushing him down to lay next to the larger, warmer body of the third of the pride.

"It's OK, Harry." The voice of the third murmured. Lucius growled a little to warn them not to defy him, not to forget he was there. Graeme lowered his voice even further. "Harry. Please. He must do this. We have done this before."

Harry gulped. Graeme spoke calmly, not as if he was frightened, or fearful. He made no move to defend himself as Lucius lowered his body to cover the subordinate male. Graeme welcomed him, bared his neck, closed his eyes, arching into the contact, not away. His hands remained curled into the furs, letting Lucius take the lead, take what he wished.

The hand that came up to bury itself in the auburn curls had claws retracted. Lucius nuzzled the side of Graeme's face, Graeme let out a tiny whimper, a request, was what Harry thought it sounded like. Lucius gave a rumble in return, nosing gently around the sensitive ear, nibbling, as his legs worked between Graeme's, spreading the other's legs wide, until he was cradled there.

Harry crawled closer, right up to the two men. He almost dared to touch them with shaking hands, but stopped just short. Lucius' eyes found him, they were half open, alert, but seductively-hot. Harry drew in a breath, tongue flickering out over suddenly dry lips. His skin tingled. Lucius pressed into the body opened to his, Graeme raising his legs, wrapping them around the strong waist, his heels coming to rest above the small of Lucius' back, riding up high.

Harry could smell the heat, the arousal, the desire, it was steamy, and thick in the air. The two big men moved together, familiar, but not to the point of contempt. Urgent, but knowing they would find what they craved. They ground together, bodies rubbing and undulating. Graeme threw his head back and hissed softly between clenched teeth. Harry knew what was happening then, Lucius pushed in, withdrew, went deeper, in increments, and Graeme took it, writhing under his king.

Lucius rode him hard, Harry knew Lucius had never taken him like this. Graeme threw his arms up over his head, biceps flexed, gripping the furs, straining. He let out deep passionate groans, sweat dripping from his face, his chest, his pale nipples hard points, Lucius snarling into the curve of his neck, biting, sinking teeth into flesh as he sank his own hardness deeper into Graeme's heat. Mouth open, Harry watched, mesmerized as the two rocked, slammed and moved together. Tearing at each other, their wounds healing almost as fast as they received them, both men hovering on the edge of the change.

Graeme's scream ended it as his king drove in hard, Lucius went rigid, climaxing, grunting into the accepting body of his third. Harry whimpered, his body still aflame, fear and desire warring, as Lucius turned his head to regard his Chosen.

He reached out, raising himself up off of Graeme, their bodies separating, Graeme shuddering with the sensation as they parted, his genitals flushed with blood, but only half hard, Harry saw. The surrender had been so great, he had not been fully erect, he had not ejaculated. Yet he lay as if replete.

Lucius fixed his mouth over Harry's full lips, kissing him, tongue stealing inside the warm mouth, suckling on the boy's lips, soft, sweet, mobile tongue. 

Harry gave in, clutching at his lover. Held firm against his withdrawal, as if he'd want to do that. He melted. He surrendered. Lucius lifted his head, he growled, possessive, pure alpha. Harry sighed, trembled, needing more than mouth on mouth. He insinuated himself closer, rubbing against the blond man. Lucius smiled, his eyes still burning bright.

Harry was carried over onto his back, Lucius following him down. The wetness on his genitals, sticky, slick pressed onto Harry's belly, his pelvis. They slid together. Moved, Lucius not aroused, Harry desperately so. He whined, low and begging in the back of his throat. He needed, he wanted, he couldn't wait.

Lucius drew back, lifted his gaze to lock onto his third. He showed his teeth, and that drew Graeme to sitting, he crawled over, going to his belly next to the king. Lucius laid a palm over the crown of his head, then he lifted Graeme's face so they shared a long look. He pushed gently and Graeme rolled over onto his back. He was hard now, fully aroused, hearing the need of the Chosen. Lucius caressed the thick pole, running his hand up and down it's full length. Graeme groaned, fluid leaking out copiously to slick down the tip of his erection. 

Harry squirmed, rubbing hopefully against Lucius. Lucius hugged him, running his hands up and down the youth's flank. Harry watched hungrily as his hand continued to stimulate and pleasure the third. Harry whined again, licked his lips, wrapped his arms around Lucius, held on, moving sweetly against the man's body. The king kissed him softly.

Lucius set Harry down placing him next to Graeme, who was now moaning with each stroke of the hand on his penis. "Take what you need, my third. Pleasure my Chosen, you have my leave. It is my wish."

Graeme never hesitated, reaching out and taking Harry into his arms, Harry scrabbled on top of the man, feeling Graeme's rigid erection settle between his rounded buttocks. He shivered, sliding up and back, just to feel it slip along his flesh, over the entrance to his body. Lucius lay back, observing with half-lidded eyes as Graeme so carefully rolled Harry over and beneath him.

Lucius' eyes, when Harry met them, were no longer sultry and seductive. They were sharp, intent and protective. Graeme was so terribly careful, reverent, when he touched the young man, the Chosen of the king, when his fingers glided over his dimpling skin, when Harry threw his head back and whimpered. And Graeme buried his nose in the riotous curls, sniffling the scent of hot, aroused kitten.

Lucius moved in, finding the warmth between his lover's legs, stroking him there, dipping his fingers in the dripping moisture of Graeme's arousal, mixing it with his own and spreading it over the portal into Harry's body. He grasped Graeme in his grip, rubbing the wet tip over Harry, lubricating the youth while Graeme shuddered, fighting to stay still...not to surge forward and bury himself deep in Harry in one long, stretching thrust. His thighs shook with the effort to hold back. He let his forehead fall to rest on Harry's cheek, he let out a cry of longing. Harry echoed him, unable to stop his body's response, unable to stop his legs from falling wider apart, knees gripping the slim hips between them, his own hips lifting, feet trying to find purchase, a hold on those thick wonderful thighs, seeking to join with the man above him.

It was Lucius who prepared him, fingers seeking entrance, with infinite care, opening him, and then he was entered by something far larger. Harry moaned his anxious delight. He wanted this, only with Lucius near, hand smoothing the damp hair from his forehead. Graeme so warm, hot, inside of him, stretching, oh so very full. He writhed. Graeme moved, riding him, slowly at first, then with greater force, pulling far out, then driving in, again and again, until Harry shuddered, crying out, shaking with the intensity.

They met, pelvis to pelvis, twisting, teasing, filling, Harry unable to stop the keening sounds that escaped him. Graeme growling deep in his broad chest in return, hitching ever closer, hands gripping Harry's waist tight, then wandering urgently down to cup the perfect globes, dragging them together, grinding, until Harry's keen turned into desperate mewling as he neared his orgasm. Until it flooded them one after the other, out of control.

Panting, he felt the shuddering take him over, he felt the loss of control, the fire spreading, the melting of his bones, like ripples of water moving out from the core, his center, exploding through him until he screamed, unable to hold it in. He shook, tremoring, his body going lax, overwhelmed with his repeating pleasure. He blinked, then let his eyes fall shut, felt quake after quake run through him. Each drawing out a little sigh, a moan, until he went limp, sweetly content, held in warm arms, dewed with sweat, so safe, pleasured...loved.

Lucius settled down on the furs, Harry lolling exhausted, pressed to his chest, his perspiration darkened curls wild. Graeme snuggled up behind the boy. Lazily petting him. Until his own eyes drifted shut and he slept. Lucius watched over them. His hand wandering from the slim body to the larger one, soothing both. Reassuring them all was well.


	78. Chapter 78

Chapter 78

 

Tanith looked up when she heard the knock on the door frame. She saw the two young men, Harry and Draco, standing, waiting for her leave to enter. She made no attempt to keep the smile from her face as she waved them in.

Draco was up and mobile at last, heavily pregnant. Harry was supporting the taller youth with a hand under his elbow, an arm comfortably around his back. Tanith frowned, cocking her head to the side, peering closer at the dark haired young man. There was something...different about the boy. He stood straight and had a new air of confidence. He had always seemed a bit confrontational when they had met previously. Wary and ill at ease. Now, he seemed relaxed, solicitous, resolute. She wondered what had happened to him to change him so.

"May we speak with you, seer Tanith?" Harry asked, helping Draco to settle in one of the large chairs in front of her desk. He was careful, paying close attention to the other young man. He propped Draco's feet up on an ottoman, only then took a seat of his own. Draco let out a sigh as he sank into the deep cushions. Tanith remembered her pregnancies, the sore feet, aching legs and screaming lower back. The ankles that had felt ready to burst. She imagined he must be feeling all those things.

"Of course you may, Chosen." Tanith replied to the shorter of the two. She turned to Draco. "Any of the pride may speak to me if the have need. Are you well, Draco? The child? I was so disappointed in your mother's choice. She did not make me aware of her intention or I would have done all possible to talk sense into her. You have stood at her side and supported her for years. I am ashamed that she chose to reject you and the child who was the heir."

"I am doing well." Draco said in return. "But, there is a problem in the pride we need your help to address. It has to do, in a way, with the heir." 

He called his unborn son, the heir. Tanith raised brows and pursed her lips. The pride had taken a relieved breath when they heard the heir had been conceived. The heir had been what they all needed. A secured future. Narcissa had made that a pipe dream. 

Tanith was furious with the inconsiderate female. It was abundantly clear she had not cared for the wellbeing of the pride and its members. She had not made any decisions that were not motivated by pure selfishness. In a strange way, Tanith was grateful Narcissa was resistant to lycanthropy, that she could never be turned, never be the true Queen and head of the pride's females. One's Queen should be sensitive to the needs of her subjects at the very least. Narcissa had not been able to accomplish that.

"That is one reason we are here. To give the pride its heir back." Harry responded, steadfastly. He wore an expression of determination, his jaw set, extraordinary, emerald green eyes fierce. "We need to speak with you, because you hold the highest rank among the pride's females."

"I am intrigued." Tanith said, smiling, leaning forward, elbows set on the desk top, hands clasped loosely in front of her. Her lined face was kind, affectionate. "So. Tell me. What news?"

"I would like for you to be the next Queen of the pride." Harry Potter said, his beautiful eyes serious as he delivered this most astonishing statement, one Tanith had never expected to hear directed at herself. "We hope you will hear us out before you answer, I am sure we have managed to surprise you."

Indeed they had. The females' seer stared at them, mouth agape, certain she must have heard them wrong. An older woman such as she did not aspire to the Queen's position, or to sharing the bed of the king. There was no reason Lucius would want her, despite that they got along well, as alpha and seer. He was handsome, powerful, personable, he was kind, well liked, why would he have to ask one older than himself? A woman who could not give him more children, a new heir? There were literally hundreds of females who wanted to share his bed, his glorious body, and who had the ability to give him the desired children.

"That is not what I thought to hear." Tanith managed at last. It was inadequate as a response, and she tried to think of something else. Something profound, something witty. But the look on both young men's faces told her this was not a prank. They were completely serious. She swallowed hard. "I am afraid that Lucius won't agree at any rate."

"The king will agree." Harry told her quietly. "My teacher has pointed out that if I insist that no woman be Queen, then I am taking the traditional power base away from the females of the pride. I do not want to do that. Yet, I find it impossible to agree to any woman marrying my chosen king, while also expecting him to lay with her." Harry lifted his chin, defiant. He showed his teeth, lips peeling back before he got himself back under control.

"I heard what happened in the Arena. When the brides came...." Tanith acknowledged, softly. "I did not know what to make of it."

Harry looked away for a moment, but not before the seer saw the look in his eyes. Harry was not going to back down on this. 

"Why would you want me to sleep with the king?" She inquired, puzzled.

"I do not. I will not share him that way. If you agree to be the pride's queen, then there will be a few stipulations that we wish for you to agree to." Harry asserted.

She leaned back into her chair. Her gaze was fixed on them, assessing. She looked over to the quiet Draco. He looked...serene. The pregnancy suited him well. He was older, more mature, with an undeniable appearance of contentment. He smiled at her confusion.

"He means it. He wants you to be Queen, but he won't share Lucius. He considers my dad to be his. As far as women are concerned. And I have to admit, I don't want to compete with any more of father's children. Nor a new and difficult wife. I would rather work something out amongst ourselves." Draco said quietly, folding his hands across his nicely rounded middle. He moved his hands up and down as if petting the baby inside of his belly.

"I...well." Tanith took a moment. Then she plunged into the idea. "What stipulations?"

"You will not have sex with *my* Chosen." Harry said very firmly and without hesitation. "You will not seek to bear him children. And you will adopt Draco and declare his child the heir. That is it."

"Don't have sex with the king? I am disappointed, he is a beautiful man, but I will manage. I am well past the age to bear children by any means, and besides, I am lycanthrope, I can not carry a child to term any longer. So that one is a given. And adopting Draco...I have always loved him like he was my own son. When it turned out he could not be one of us, I wept for him, for the pride and for myself. There was nothing I wanted more than for him to be pride. I will happily adopt him. For any reason." She paused. Her eyes widening when they did not leap in and declare the joke. 

"You are serious." She said, astonished all over again. "You want me to be Queen."

"Yes. And we want you to marry my father tonight." Draco said apologetically. "I know it is not much notice," he patted his tummy. "But, I want things settled before I give birth. Snape says that could be anytime now." His pale blue eyes pleaded. She looked at him, then to Harry. 

Two young men, asking her to do something very unconventional and daring. To benefit the pride. She had no doubt but that the news of the reconfirmation of the heir would bring joyous celebration. Draco was much loved. His child most welcome. A new heir, ready to be born any moment, a blessing. And no need to tiptoe around a new wife, who would be seeing just how much power she could wield, who would be testing every boundary, throwing her weight around...Ghod, if only for that she should agree. 

Tanith, seer to the females of the pride, took a deep breath, she let her eyes move from Harry to Draco. Draco reached out, clutching at Harry's smaller hand. Harry grabbed it in his own. They sat, holding hands, these two very different boys, and waited for her answer. 

If she said no, she had no illusions about Harry backing down. He would not. No foreign woman was going to be brought in to be the king's wife. Harry had sent the first brides back to where they had traveled from. Snap, easy as you please. Stunning power. Like none she had seen before. New brides had been turned away by a stony faced Chosen, who mysteriously seemed to know when they were coming. None reached Lucius. None were granted any access. Harry refused to budge. No one had been foolish enough to insist.

She took another deeper breath, closed her eyes for strength, then nodded her head. "If the king allows, I will do it."

Harry and Draco were silent for one long tense instant, then they threw their arms around each other and hugged each other tightly, Draco had big tears running down his face.

"Thank you, Tanith. Thank you. I would do anything for my child. And I thank you for this. From the bottom of my heart." Draco sniffled, Harry held him fiercely, his eyes suspiciously bright, he pressed a chaste kiss on the other youth's cheek.

"Oh, Draco," Harry whispered. "We have done it."


	79. Chapter 79

Chapter 79

 

"My back hurts." Draco said, as they were walking towards the Arena. Harry, distracted, put a steadying arm around the other youth, offering support, but he wasn't paying close attention at all. There was a wedding to get through soon. By tonight Lucius would be wed. Harry was relieved it was happening so fast, he wouldn't have much time to worry about it. At the same time, he was annoyed that he wasn't going to be the one marrying Lucius.

"Damn." Harry said, absently, when Draco went still, obviously tensing with pain. "I was worried that chair was too soft. Not enough support. I can rub your back when we get to your room. Or Mantheer and Yaji can if you want." Draco had stopped walking, bending at the waist, one hand reaching around for his back the other low on his belly.

"I don't think it is that kind of hurting." Draco replied, as the pain finally abated, he tried to straighten, managing only just, he grabbed for Harry's arm. "I think we should get Professor Snape."

It took Harry a few beats before the switch clicked and he went milk-white once he understood. "You mean...?" He squeaked. "The baby? Here? Now? You can't, it can't....I can't..." Harry looked around the empty hall for help. No way did he want to be alone for this untimely event. 

"I am afraid so." Draco moaned. And Harry seriously considered screaming for help. 

"But they aren't married yet. It's too soon." Harry protested. "We agreed that she would adopt you tonight."

"I know. But, there is nothing I can do about *this*." Draco said snarkily as Harry rushed him down the hall with new urgency. "As I understand it, it just happens when it is ready." He paused, dragging the other boy to a halt, hand gripping Harry's arm like a vise. 

"Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow....." Harry yelped. "Leggo, leggo, come on!"

"OOOOWWWWW." Draco responded. "Owwwwwwwwwww. Oh Fuck, Potter. I need to lay down, now. I don't want to do this." His knees started to sag as if he was going to lay down on the floor right here. Harry wrapped an arm around his waist and heaved him back to his feet. 

"Hmmm. OK.OK. OK. Let's go. This way...." Harry tired to shake the feeling back into his mangled arm and at the same time get Draco down the hall to his room. He was not panicking, he was *not*! "You can lay down as soon as we get you to your bed." And not a minute before, Harry thought. Not even if he had to carry his friend, or drag him. He looked around again. There just had to be someone else around to do this...giving birth thingie.

"Harry. Draco. What is wrong?" It was the silky smooth, chocolate voice of the Hogwarts Potions Master. Harry was never so gald to seen the dark haired, pale skinned man in his life. And right behind him was the towering figure of Yaji. Even better. Yaji frowned, sniffing the air.

"Gah." Harry tried to explain the urgency. Another contraction hit, saving Harry from ungluing his tongue from the roof of his mouth and explaining what was going on. Draco howled. Yaji flashed around the other two men, scooping the blond up in his more than adequate arms. Draco dug his fingers into the man's wide shoulders. He whimpered as the contraction faded.

"To the bed." Snape ordered, imperiously, drawing his wand. "Then send for his father." He swept after Yaji and Draco. Harry was left standing alone, gape-jawed in the middle of the corridor. He shook himself after a moment of shivering relief. He offered up a prayer. Thank you, Merlin! Lucius. Right. He could do that. He spun around ready to race away in search of the king, he took one step and smacked into something big. Bam!

Lucius' put his arms around his Chosen, keeping him from toppling to the floor. "What has occurred? Is there a problem with Tanith? Has she accepted or refused?" The king grilled him. Harry threw his own arms around his king, holding as tight as he could. He spoke into Lucius' broad chest while the big hands continued to stroke his back.

"NO. I mean, yes. She said fine. It's Draco. He is having the baby and you aren't married, its too soon and that means Tanith can't adopt him and all this will be for nothing, the child won't be the heir. Draco will be upset, he said he didn't want to do this, he was hurting a lot, now he is going to have to do it again." Harry blurted out, gazing up at the man's face. Lucius regarded him solemnly. 

"It is not too late." Lucius said. "We will just bump up the schedule." He whirled Harry around and headed them back towards Tanith's rooms. He swept in, Harry in tow.

"Seer." The king greeted the older woman. She looked up in surprise, her eyes and the eyes of the other woman in the room, went to Harry, who was clearly in a state of agitation.

"What is wrong?" Tanith asked coming out from behind the desk. Lucius snuggled Harry to his side, and answered the question. Harry again at a loss for words.

"Draco is in labor. We must marry now, Tanith, the adoption must be declared *before* the child is born." The king told the seer. His voice was steady. Harry thought that he was shaking plenty for the two of them. He thought about it some more. Draco was having the baby, right now.

Behind them someone cleared his throat. It was Graeme. The tall were-leopard strode into the room after receiving a nod of permission from the seer.

"Amrys is with Draco. Tambyn is also here with a bride he wishes you to consider." Graeme said neutrally. Harry felt blood rush into his brain until his head was pounding with rage. He literally saw red. He was half-way out the door before Graeme caught up with him, looping a restraining arm around the youth. Harry snarled, kicking out.

"No way. No. He isn't...we have it all worked out. I won't....let me go!" Harry was hissing, struggling to free himself. His arms waved, he was energetic, determined, but not terribly good at warding off an attack or freeing himself from a skilled hold. Or any hold at all the man holding him reflected.

Graeme decided he was going to have to teach Harry to fight. The young were-leopard was certainly strong enough, but he flailed, dispersing his strength making his efforts ineffectual. Graeme made soothing noises until Harry calmed. Graeme wasn't fooled for an instant.

"You can let me go now." Harry growled, irritably. He slyly cut his eyes towards the door, measuring the distance, unobtrusively. Half a dozen steps would do it.

"I really don't think so." Graeme said, amusement and affection in his tone. "I think we will go together, you and I. Unless I am mistaken, Lucius and Tanith have a wedding to see to."

 

Tambyn was aggrieved. He crossed his impressive arms over his chest and glared down at the diminutive Chosen of Lucius' pride. The boy was a never ending source of exasperation and trouble, he thought. If the boy was his, he would cheerfully administer a well needed spanking, *if* he were certain the third standing next to the Chosen wouldn't defend the whelp. Instead, he sighed and tried to make the boy see reason. It wasn't Tambyn's fault that Lucius allowed others to spoil his Chosen.

"I am not offering insult, Chosen. But, your king must marry. And you are frightening off all candidates. It can not continue. She is the sister of my own wife. It is an honor I am bringing to your king." Tambyn rumbled, crossly. Harry returned the glare and crossed his own arms across his narrow chest. 

"No." Harry said. "No *fucking* way." The deep growl was disconcerting coming from such a small creature, Tambyn frowned, just stopping himself from taking an involuntary step back from the enraged youth. He drew himself up even taller, looming over the young man. Harry showed the were-wolf king his teeth. Graeme inched closer.

"Harry. You have dared to threaten even a seer, you would have attacked him if you weren't held back. You have forced the king into granting you unreasonable promises. This can not continue." Tambyn tried to insist. Harry showed more teeth. They were certainly going to have a physical confrontation, Tambyn realized. Then a voice cut into the thickened, tense atmosphere.

"I have my bride." Lucius said into the charged silence. "Come see me wed."

"Now? Without council present?" Tambyn stuttered. "I have brought...." He waved his arm at the cowering girl who was diligently keeping her brother in law between herself and Harry. Lucius shook his head in negation. Tambyn sighed. Lucius gestured with an arm.

"Yes. Now. Come and be witness that the king of this pride is wed and needs no other brides delivered to his doorstep." The were-leopard king said. "Keep your bride for another king, one who needs her excellent services." Lucius held his arm out to Harry. "Come Chosen. Time is short."

Harry rushed to him, remembering about Draco and the fact the child wanted to be born NOW. He shot a last, telling glare at the were-wolf king and the shrinking bride. Then he was running down the hallway with Lucius at his side, and everyone else at their heels.


	80. Chapter 80

Chapter 80

 

Harry took one look at Draco when they entered the room, flushed nearly purple and averted his eyes. Draco was mostly naked, his legs flung out to the side, unashamedly swearing a blue streak. Amrys was at his side, patting him, getting growled at for his trouble. The big second of the pride was cowering back, nodding and accepting all the aspersions to his manhood Draco was flinging at him. Harry gawped at the novelty of a submissive Amrys. He stumbled into Graeme's back. 

Harry blinked, not believing his eyes as Draco strained up into the air, face red and dripping, the space between his legs filled with hands and Snape's broad , bare shoulders. Severus Snape was wearing nothing more than a pair of his perfectly ironed trousers. His hands were already wet, with.... Harry gulped and faced front. Oh, god!

Snape was hunched down between the youth's spread legs, Draco had flung one leg over the man's back but Harry had seen...everything. Most especially that Draco was a girl. Well not exactly a girl, but definitely a boy-girl or girl-boy. He had *both* kind of parts. Harry was pretty certain that was new. I mean, he would have noticed if it wasn't. Wouldn't he? Sure he would. He swallowed, feeling a bit dizzy. Graeme supported him as he swayed, turning decidedly green when Draco let loose with another piercing howl.

Mantheer let out a low snarl, moving to conceal Draco's bare form as the group fully entered the room. Snape looked up from his exam, Draco's leg now around his neck and scowled, flipping a covering over the young man. Draco, for once didn't seem to care. He let out a moan, body curling in on itself as another contraction hit. He hissed.

Lucius headed immediately for his son. 

Mantheer, barely managed to keep his reaction to a mild growl. He was fighting his protective reaction, the man approaching was his king! But the snarl came out anyway. Lucius noted it, went to his knees, crawling forward to the edge of the bed, presenting the lowest profile that he could, the least threatening posture. He kept a wary eye on the men surrounding Draco.

A were-leopard protecting its mate during child birth was nothing to toy with. Not even if one were a king. He reached out slowly, touching Draco's hand, it was squeezed tightly, then released, as Mantheer's displeasure became significantly louder. Yaji added his own growl, creeping closer across the bed furs, eyes gone golden with a predatroy gleam. Amrys, next to him, bared teeth, eyes also glowing dangerously. Lucius wisely withdrew, certain that Draco was being well cared for.

"I would suggest a very short and immediate ceremony." Severus Snape ventured from underneath the cloth that hid him entirely from view. "I can feel the crown of the child's head. There is very little time."

Pop, pop, pop, sounded in the room. And suddenly the three seers of the Seer's Council were there. Gwyddion Llyr's veils were waving wildly, taking up most of the room around him, as he hastily moved away from the bed even before the growling grew to deafening levels. He turned unerringly towards the king.

"Well, let's hurry shall we?" The Seer instructed, briskly. "I came as soon as I was able after I felt the labor begin. I am feeling the need to push. So, quickly now, to your places. Oh, oh. Where is the lovely bride?" He looked around, fully veiled, but missing nothing. His attention riveted on the woman at Tambyn's side. "Noooooo. I am thinking, not you." Tambyn stiffened, prepared to be insulted on the woman's behalf.

Harry blinked at Gwyddion. That first bit, didn't make much sense. How could the Seer have known? Then his eyes fixed on the man behind the Seer, and his eyes narrowed to slits. Barethes, who's concentration was fixed on Lucius, gaze adoring, hungry. Harry's non-human ears flattened to his skull, his nostrils flared. He took a step forward. Barethes sidled a bit nearer to Lucius. Harry inched closer. Almost....then an arm looped itself around his shoulders. He shuddered in disappointment, sagging in Graeme's grasp.

"Naughty, kitten. Very naughty. Can't have you attacking seers and kings right and left, now, can we? Let's get the wedding done first, hmmm?" Graeme whispered silkily. He licked Harry's ear. Harry shivered, distracted. Lucius' hiss startled him. Graeme returned his king's glare with an innocent face, completely unperturbed. Harry squirmed, testing the third's vigilance. Graeme scolded him with a low rumble, Harry mewled in reply, face settling into a thwarted frown.

Tanith was the last to arrive with her assistant in tow. She moved rapidly to stand next to Lucius. She was resplendent in her bright golden robes. 

"It is not every day that I get married." She said cheerily. "Nor every day that I can celebrate the pride's heir being born. That is worth dressing up for."

"Very good." The Seer said. He raised his arms. "Come now. Line up. Time to hurry. Those tiny shoulders are just about out. we'll have to be super-quick!"

"Oooooooo." Came from Draco on the bed. The Seer nodded, sagely. "Big shoulders for a little squirt." He waved his arms again.

"Hurry, hurry." Gwyddion Llyr said. "The baby is blond. And he has the cutest little nose!"

Harry spun his head to look, unable to stop himself, but of course Draco was mostly covered, and what wasn't covered was hidden by the wall of were-leopard flesh surrounding him. Snape was a crouching lump under the cloth. 

"I won't ask how you know that." His voice came dryly. "But you are correct."

"So. Lucius Malfoy, king of the pride of the were-leopards, do you accept this woman to be your wife and queen?" Gwyddion Llyr asked, with an air of supreme satisfaction.

"I accept her as my Queen." Lucius said. Changing the reply as his Chosen had negotiated. Tambyn made a noise as if to protest, one that stopped when they all turned to glare him into silence. Harry let one long claw slide into evidence, even as Graeme's arms tightened around him. Tambyn looked at it. One claw, a single glisteningly sharp threat, on the tip of the finger of a boy who was less than half his own weight. He sneered his contempt, then he recalled the fact that this was the same young man who had apparated a whole Arena full of people out of the Manor, with a single snap. And no wand. He swallowed his objection unvoiced.

"Your queen only? Fair enough, that is with in the laws." Llyr turned fractionally to face Tanith. "Tanith, seer of the pride of the were-leopards, do you accept this man as your husband and your King?"

"I accept him as my wedded King." Tanith agreed. Wincing as Draco let out another shout and a string of very colorful curses.

"Excellent grasp of the appropriate vocabulary for a time like this, Draco." Snape said. "However, it might be wise to save your breath for another push." Draco cursed again, more crisply. Mantheer's face, the only one Harry could see well enough to see any expression, was wide-eyed. And Gwyddion raised his voice to be heard above the string of admirably explicit, blue-words. 

"In perfect agreement, then! Do you, Tanith, Queen of the were-leopards also accept Draco, the son of the king as your son?" Llyr asked her. For that was the most important point at this juncture. The adoption of Draco and the heir's renewed status.

"I accept Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, as my son. And any child of his as my line."

The child in question gave a lusty scream, drowning out her words, echoed weakly by the exhausted Mother of the heir.

Amrys was now under the cloth with Severus and Draco's nether regions. His purr came loud and clear, filling the room with a sound of sheer, joyous contentment.

"When can we see him?" Harry asked, innocently, carried away with excitement. The air was immediatly filled with a cacophony of growls. He reared back away from the furious faces of the two huge guardians crouched on the furs of Draco's bed.

"About a week, perhaps two, any sooner and you are likely to lose a limb. Wait until they bring him out into the rest of the Manor." Lucius whispered into his ear. "Now, I think it is best for us to leave the proud parents and the professor alone with the new addition. Come." They all filed out. Harry craned his neck back at the full bed. Yaji showed him a clawed hand.

"So, why are Mantheer and Yaji behaving like they are the parents?" Harry wondered, slightly affronted by the display, as Graeme dragged him out of the room. He just wanted one tiny, itty-bitty look at the kid! He pouted.


	81. Chapter 81

Chapter 81

 

"I am not doing this again." Draco groaned as Snape tended to his very sore bottom. "Never, ever, never, uh-uh, don't even bother to ask. There is no way."

"No one said you would have to." The Professor responded, wielding his wand. A flick, a wave, another flick. Then he frowned. Something was keeping him from changing Draco back to completely male. Severus could only think of one thing that might do that..... 

"Draco." Severus Snape said, his voice without inflection. His pale shoulders were hunched. "Try another push will you?" He spread one hand over Draco's tummy, pressing lightly.

"What? Why? No! Don't. Are you crazy? That hurts!" Draco spat out, as Severus Snape inserted careful fingers inside him, Draco lifting himself just enough to see the other man. "Shit! Ow, ow, ow, ow. No, no. Stop it. What are you doing?"

Yaji was instantly there, growling menacing. Snape scowled at him, a scowl that despite the lack of bristling fangs, was every bit as effective. They wasted a few moments glaring at each other, silently dueling before Snape turned his attention back to where it was more urgently needed. He snapped over his bare shoulder.

"Out of the way. There is another baby yet to come. I'm sorry, Draco, it isn't over yet. " When the big were-animal continued to tower over him, crowding him, Snape planted a shod foot a-top the were-leopard's bare one. Yaji yelped and drew back his bruised limb. "I need room here. Go find me more blankets, towels. And go tell the king." Severus ordered then bent back to his task.

"Gods. Oh, Gods. No. Not again." Draco begged, bracing his feet on the slippery furs and cursing, trying to find purchase to push against. "This is so not fair. You should have to do half of the work at least. If there is a second child why aren't you giving birth to him? Huh? Amrys!"

The second was standing, frozen, next to the bed where the laboring youth lay, holding the first newborn which Severus had thrust into his arms. He was trembling. Mantheer inched in close behind him, gently relieving him of the baby and cradling it safely in his own arms. He had a look of supreme satisfaction on his adoring face as he looked at the fussy bundle in his arms. Amrys shot him a look of pure panic. Mantheer nudged him forward, a dopey grin on his own face as he looked at Draco's exquisite child. 

Yaji had gotten up on the furs and now lifted Draco up in his arms to lay propped on his body. He surrounded the young man, like a cradle, letting Draco push back against him for leverage. He rested against a huge stack of cushions, his hands stroking the body of his love with long motions, top to bottom. He held the youth tightly with each contraction, straining in counterpoint. 

Snape looked at him shrewdly, wondering if it was were-leopard instinct or if Yaji had attended other births. There were definite midwifery skills or at least instincts showing. The big leopard was calming Draco while not stopping the pushing. It was exactly what Draco needed.

Draco let his head fall back, sweat streaming off of him. He panted, trying to get his wind back. Amrys tentatively crawled up near him, wedging himself next to Yaji. The youth let his head turn to look at the shocked silent man as the current contraction eased. He raised his hand and touched Amrys' worried face. 

"I'm not really angry. It just hurts." Draco croaked, then stiffened as his body squeezed down again, try to expel the second baby. Amrys petted Draco's damp hair, stroked his diminished but not yet empty belly. "Why does it have to hurt?"

"You are the most blessed." Amrys whispered. "You bring us not one new life, but two. I honor you for that." He kissed the Mother of his sons. Draco let him. Amrys revered the Mother. He had grown up knowing the man was dedicated to the Mother and to protecting her, showing her reverence, even the despicable Andromeda. 

There was a brisk shuffle at the doorway, Gwyddion Llyr and Lucius Malfoy entered, alone. Snape looking up at Draco, completely absorbed in his task, did not bother to cover the over-heated boy this time. Instead, he fixed his quelling gaze on the Seer.

"Might I inquire why you said nothing about this?" He asked, his irritation plain, his hands busy.

"The second child? Well, why should I? The Mother needed to give birth to one, why not two while he is at it? What is one more? A few more little pushes and there are two for the work of one." Llyr shrugged. He seemed genuinely unconcerned. "Besides what a nice surprise, don't you agree?" Snape glowered, and Draco at the moment resting, glared in outrage.

"It would have been nice to know." Severus gritted out. Draco was stopped from offering his point of view by one more hard contraction. He moaned. Snape at last saw the head of the second child. Also blond. 

 

This time, when Severus swished and flicked, Draco did turn back to a young man without any extra parts. He let out a sigh of relief. He was not totally familiar with were-leopard physiology and he was relieved that there were not more infants yet to come. No litter. For a moment he had feared there would be more. That would have been far too exhausting. And if he were tired, Draco must be done in. Two were more than enough.

"Better?" Snape asked. He hoped the aching would be less with the birth over and conversion back to the young man's previous body form.

"Hey!" Draco sat up and squirmed cautiously. "That's miraculous. Why didn't you do something like that when I was in labor and giving birth!" He accused the other man. "It didn't *have* to hurt did it?" 

Snape frowned. "It really wasn't possible." He replied, firmly. "It is part of giving birth."

"Shhhh." Amrys said, whispering. He cradled the small form of his second son in his arms, face glowing. He babbled on, amazed. "He is perfect. Beautiful." Mantheer joined them all on the furs with the first child. Lucius stepped forward to see the tiny children and to acknowledge them as the heirs to the pride. 

"Such perfect little kings." Gwyddion Llyr said, bending over them as they were held carefully for the current pride king to see. 

"Kings?" Snape asked, curiosity winning.

"Oh, yes. Kings. Twins are never kept apart in the lycanthrope world. They are born together and are meant to remain together." The Seer informed him. Snape thought about that. He had noted that Fred and George were usually together. But not always, always. 

"Little things, little things." The Seer said as Snape opened his mouth to ask, flapping his hands in the air. "They are together, when it counts."

They look virtually identical, Snape thought. Not fraternal twins then. No. These were Fred and George Weasley type twins. He allowed himself a small shudder and a prayer to Merlin these two would be less mischievous than the two red-headed rapscallions. The pride certainly didn't need the likes of Fred and George ruling it one day.

"Oh, my God." Draco said looking down into the tiny faces, one baby cradled in each arm, Mantheer's hand supporting one, and Yaji's the other. He stared into the deep amber eyes, at the lovely rosebud mouths. He lowered his head, kissed one on the forehead then the other, almost afraid to touch the delicate flesh. "Oh, Merlin, Amrys. They are beautiful. Oh! I want another, more, a dozen, a hundred, just like them." His eyes were shining.

Amrys paled. The brave, powerful second of the pride eased himself behind Mantheer, hiding from the Mother. Mantheer scowled at him. Amrys shrugged.

"He is all yours." Amrys whispered.


	82. Chapter 82

Chapter 82

 

Lucius swam across the bathing pool towards the two red haired were-leopards when they entered the room and waited near the edge of the steaming water. The waves eddied around him, flowing over his wide, muscular back, curling over the mounds of his buttocks, highlighting his gleaming, alabaster skin. His hair trailed behind him like a silken cape, shining silver, highlighted with gold. He pulled himself up out of the water, liquid streaming down his skin, pooling on the stone floor.

Bill and Charlie waited for him to sit and make himself comfortable. Bill put a steadying hand on his brother's back. They were here for both business and hopefully for pleasure, of a sort. If the king did not beat them to a bloody pulp for their temerity first. For their unbelievable cheek. 

Bill sighed. He had not seen it coming. But, he was man enough to know he had no one to blame but himself, no matter that Charlie had made the first overture. And if Lucius chose to smack him down, he'd take his lumps, Gods knew he deserved it. He shook his head. He'd never seen it coming, never suspected it. It had taken him completely by surprise. And he, *they'd*, compounded the error by not asking permission first. Or coming to the king when they first became aware of their feelings.

Lucius settled himself down next to Harry, sitting cross-legged. He ran a hand down over the drowsing youngster's pelt. Harry was out of the pool, on the flagstones, exhausted by the day's events, stretched out full length in animal form. He was snoring softly, relaxed, his tongue lolling out. His thick, black fur was half dry, beginning to fluff out at the ruff and along his flanks. His breath moved in and out slowly. He was deliciously limp. Lucius worked his fingers into the lush fur, massaging and rubbing the lax form of his love. That got a thump or two from Harry's long tail. And a snortle from the sleepy cat.

Charlie couldn't hold back a grin watching the young-ling sleeping so deeply, even Bill smiled at the sight. They kept their voices low as they greeted their king, going down to their knees, rubbing their faces on the hand he held out. The greeting done, they both took a deep breath and plunged on. Best to get it over with. Bill started with the necessary business.

"The wards are re-set, they will protect the pride from those you do not authorize to cross." Bill Weasley told Lucius, as he smoothed out the scroll diagramming the new wards. "It will not be a simple thing to enter the Manor any longer. Any member of the pride with questionable intent will have to be cleared by yourself or the second or the third. Any person you choose to keep out will not have any way to enter the grounds."

"You have done well." Lucius praised his leopard. The plans were exact, well drawn, easy to follow, even for one who was not an expert at that kind of work. Bill's talent was evident in the lack of confusion, the clear, direct lines he had scribed. Lucius looked up into his leopard's wary face, wondering at the nervousness there. He decided to wait. He would learn of the problem soon enough. He could sense the guilt, the anxiety pouring off the two brothers. They would spill it soon. They could not hold it in much longer.

"I've set up time to go over the methods with Graeme and Amrys. Then I think it time that we left. I can't speak for Charlie, but my assistant is not capable of running the business entirely alone. I can't ask it of him in all fairness. He has owled repeatedly with many questions. He needs guidance." Bill bit his lip, nervously. Here it comes, whatever it is, Lucius thought. He waited patiently, petting Harry. The kitten rolled over onto his back, baring his underbelly for attention. Lucius obliged most willingly.

"We would like to take Troy with us when we leave." Bill blurted out. His face was crimson, his hands clutched in the fabric of his loose pants. He couldn't manage to look up at his king's eyes. Lucius felt a wave of anger build. He could have sworn Bill Weasley had just asked him to.... Impossible. He must have heard the man wrong. NO one would dare touch his Marked without permission.

"What did you say?" Lucius asked, his voice deceptively gentle, soft. His hand continued its reverent stroking, running up and down the fur of his Chosen who suddenly lifted his head, staring at the red haired were-man who was beginning to shake. The emerald eyes were wide. Bill steeled himself. But it was Charlie who spoke. Harry rolled back onto his side.

"Please, my king. We meant you no disrespect. We didn't expect end up in this situation. We only spoke to him in politeness, then discovered our feelings for him, out of the blue. We did not plan it." Charlie said. "I feel more for him than I have for any other. It is as if he is part of my soul." He looked over at Bill.

"Our soul, my king." Bill amended. "I feel whole when he is with me." Lucius' growl interrupted the speech. Bill threw himself down on his face, abasing himself. Charlie was not fast enough. Lucius smacked him with a punishing paw, causing the younger man to end up sprawled across the flagstones and his brother's back. Lucius drew back his paw, just as Harry flopped himself into the king's lap, inhibiting the motion. Lucius glared at him but did not throw him off. Harry purred, rubbing his face along Lucius' bared abdomen, giving the damp skin a tiny lick.

"Have you approached him?" Lucius managed finally. His tone a warning. "Have you had sexual relations with *my* Marked?"

"No, my king, we would not, never without your leave." Bill offered, face still pressed into the floor. His voice shook. He had offered unintentional inslut to his king, a man who he revered. He was upset with his own actions, he only hoped he would be forgiven.

Charlie had dragged himself to his own belly, head spinning waiting for it to clear before he spoke. "No, my king, we have only spoken to him. We have not taken advantage. Please, forgive us."

"Very well." Lucius relaxed a bit. The morphed paw that he had been using to expend discipline fading back to a human hand. Digging into the incredible fur of the cat stretched, bonelessly, temptingly, over his lap. "Tell me why you seek to remove my Marked from the Manor. From me."

Bill jumped into the opening. He lifted his head tentatively. Lucius responded with a growl. Hastily, Bill put his forehead back to the ground.

"He is gifted, I think, with the talent to care for the dragons. He should have the chance to try. He has also shown remarkable understanding of curse-breaking. He understood the wards at once. It would be a great waste not to train him." Bill hurriedly explained. Lucius grunted, that was not the main reason, he was sure. Still, it was a good one. As king, he should not ignore what benefitted the boy and the pride.

"And will you take the responsibility to care for him as he needs, to complete his pride teaching? Will you see that he is not lonely for his fellow young-lings? Will you soothe him and show him the love he deserves? So that he will be content and happy even away from his fellow kittens?" Lucius growled. There was only one right answer to these questions. 

"Yes, my king." Bill and Charlie both answered, breathlessly. By Merlin, was it possible? Would they be allowed to take the youth? To train and care for him?

"Kittens do not do well if they are alone. They need constant attention and affection." Lucius dug his fingers into Harry's hair, smoothing finger tips over the ecstatically twitching scalp, causing Harry to arch further into the touch. Harry moaned with pleasure. He was slowly converting back to human, one lazy body part at a time.

"Yes, my king." Bill and Charlie answered the larger man. Who was looking down with an expression of pure love and considerable lust at the young-ling he was stroking. Harry was eating it up. Now half leopard, half human. His whiskers bristling with enjoyment. He writhed in his lover's hold. Pushing Lucius flat onto his back. The king laughed, hugging the youth to his chest. Harry rewarded him with a series of mewls, a dozen licks over his neck and his face. Lucius laughed again, the tension fading completely from the room.

"Don't' think I don't know what you are doing, my kitten." Lucius said to Harry. "You are more than happy to be rid of Troy. But, you must remember he is of the pride and you, as the Chosen must be concerned for his well-being." Lucius tried to scold the young-ling but it was hard to do while grinning at him. Harry rowled adoringly. Lucius had to laugh again. Harry changed further toward human.

"Very well. You may take him." Lucius told the Weasley brothers. "But, I hold you responsible for his happiness and his teaching. You will keep me apprised of his progress. And you will report to me through Harry. Harry. It will be your task to see that Troy is doing well, that he is cared for and not unhappy. That he is getting all that he needs to grow and to be fulfilled. Do you agree?"

Harry nodded vigorously. He gave a yipping mewl. Frowned in concentration but was unable to use human words yet. He nodded again to be sure Lucius knew he understood the seriousness of the charge he was being given. He would tell the king if anything was amiss. He would look out for Troy's best interests. He would not let his jealousy over the position the boy had had with Lucius cloud his judgment. Harry's emerald eyes tried to convey his determination, his recognition of the seriousness of the responsibility. 

At last Lucius was satisfied and he looked over at Bill and Charlie. He petted Harry's flank as he spoke. "Then, I put my Marked in your care. You will see he is taught and that he is pleased. You will see all his needs addressed. He will share your beds and find pleasure there, or you will return him to me." He waved his hand at them. "Go." They scrambled to obey, backing out of the room on hands and knees. They made no effort to hide the huge grins on their faces. Lucius snorted.

Harry wrapped his arms around the king's neck, pulling himself astraddle the larger man's body, wrapping his legs in turn around the strong, narrow waist. He purred ecstatically.

"Yes." Lucius said to his Chosen. "You are terribly pleased aren't you, my love?" He bent his head to kiss Harry, palms cupping the beloved face.


	83. Chapter 83

Chapter 83

 

Lucius rose up out of the steam like an ancient God. His body shone pale in the dimness of the two fires that were the only lighting in the largest of the pride's bathing rooms. Red-gold high-lights danced over his ivory skin as he slowly walked up into the shallows. The room was filled with the members of the pride who were in residence at the Manor. They stood in silent and solemn vigil as they witnessed the ceremony of the king passing along the care of one of his own to another.

Lucius looked neither right nor left as he advanced. His eyes were only for the slim young kitten he had taken as his own far too short a time ago. The one he had chosen to Mark and keep to himself, to cherish the gift of his body. 

Troy also looked only into the light grey eyes of his king, tears welling in his eyes as he stood quietly, trying not to sob his anguish. He wanted to fling himself into the arms that had held him so tenderly, comforted him, pleasured him beyond his wildest imagination. He could not believe that it was his king's wish that he go with these other members of the pride, that he now would belong to them, not to his shining king alone.

Troy was waiting for his king, chin high, mouth trembling. His dark hair hung long and unfettered, a wondrous flow of ebony silk, his body nude. His eyes were locked onto the form of his king as the large man approached him. His face was worshiping, tragic, uncertain. The tears that had filled his eyes finally overflowed. He drew in a long, shuddering breath, squeezing his hands into fists as he waited. Lucius sluiced the water from his arms and met the youth in the shallows.

Lucius took Troy in his arms, holding him, bringing him up close to his own body, until he could feel the frantic beat of the young man's heart pressed to his own, hear the muffled sobs the kitten was fighting to keep back. He enclosed the crying youth, pressing consoling kisses to the sweet curve of the flawless cheek. He offered what comfort and reassurance that he was able and didn't loosen his hold. Finally, Troy's arms crept around the man's shoulders, grasping tight, holding on. Lucius kissed him again, a soft touch of lip to lip. Lasting, staying not wanting it to be over. Pulling back reluctantly, eyes meeting again, gazes meshed.

Gently, he led the young man into the depths of the water, carrying him down below the surface, going down beneath with him, then lifting him above it, supporting him on top of the water as he washed the youth with his own hands. The hands of the king, carefully washing his Mark from the body of the one who had been his own. The washing was thorough, patient, serving to reassure the Marked as well as to clean off the last scent remaining on his skin.

He lingered over his task, knowing it would be a long time before he saw the boy after this day. He cleaned him from toes to hip, from hip to shoulder, arms, throat and lastly, with the most reverent of touches, cleaned his face and glorious hair. Fingertips finding the sweet softness of his lips. No part of him untouched, no part unremembered. Troy sobbed, feeling the finality of it all. He turned in the king's embrace and hid his face in the curve of the man's neck. Lucius finished his task then carried Troy up out of the pool to the edge where the two men waited. The Weasleys. Who would now be charged with the love and care of this precious kitten from their pride. The king's favored.

Bill and Charlie Weasley watched the ritual unfold. They watched, breath caught in their throats, as the young man they had asked for and been granted, was carried bare from the steaming water. He was long limbed yet delicately built, fragile appearing even though he was much stronger than any human of like size. Lucius brought him right to them. They knelt down as he neared. The kitten's face was tragic as he struggled to be brave, struggled to obey his king's decree and accept the men who he was being entrusted to. He tried and just managed to lift his head from the king's shoulder to look at the kneeling men. Lucius set him down next to them, keeping Troy's hand in his own.

Lucius held the hand of the boy who had been his to pleasure. He ran his other hand up the smooth neck cupping the lovely face, his body bending down to offer one last public kiss to the young-ling. Their lips held, tasting, wanting, deeply sad, the taste of Troy's salty, mourning tears flavoring it with melancholy. 

Lucius reached out and took the hands of the kneeling brothers, one at a time, joining them to Troy's hands. Then he turned to face the door to the bathing room and waited. Silently Bill and Charlie backed out of the room, leading Troy away from the king. Lucius would say a private farewell to the youth later, but for now the ritual was complete. He was no longer the king's Marked. He watched every step the youth took as he left. Then he was out of the room and gone.

A ripple of sound moved through the gathered pride, they came forward in a gentle wave to embrace their king, to touch him, stroke loving hands down his sides in recognition of his loss. They offered him soothing caresses, murmured their love and support, offering him comfort. They swarmed over him, careful not to crush him standing patiently in turn for their chance to give him aid. He stood tall and strong at first, then he bent into their hands, into the hard and soft hands of the men and women who touched him.

Kisses were dropped onto his skin, one after the other, offerings of tenderness, of recognition, even promises of lust slaked. They ran fingers through his hair, over his chest, the rest of his proud body, lingering over him, finally bearing him down to the furs pulled over to cushion him. They lay next to him, embracing him, trading places, waiting for him to chose among them to select who would offer him the deepest comfort of their bodies for the loss of his Marked.

Harry stood and watched them go to his lover. Tears were gathered in his eyes as it came to him the sorrow that Lucius was feeling. He had thought this would be a moment of happiness, of relief, but instead he stood shocked by the level of pain and mourning that filled the room. The king was hurting, the king was loved, the king needed, yet the king had lost what he needed most at this moment. There were only substitutes, each extended hand was not the hand of the one who Lucius was aching for. Harry wept, huge tears flowing down his face. Miserably he lowered himself to the ground and curled in on himself. He sobbed, wishing he could somehow heal the pain that filled this room to overflowing.

Strong hands lifted him up, cradled him against a muscular, warm chest. Warm lips kissed his swollen eyes, a deep voice offering him soothing sounds. A fall of coppery hair surrounded him, shielding him as he was rocked in the protective embrace. 

"Harry." Graeme murmured into his wildly tangled hair, dropping kisses onto the dark strands. "Don't cry, kitten. We will heal him. He needs our comfort. Do you understand?"

Harry sobbed. His fingers wound in the glinting, satin curls of the were-leopard holding him. He mourned the leaving of the boy he had never really known.


	84. Chapter 84

Chapter 84

 

Severus Snape was blinking. He had something stuck in his eye. He swiped at it with the back of his hand. That took care of the little problem. Then a minute later it was back. He swiped again. Suppressing the sniffle that threatened, much to his horror. No, no. That was a sniff, a reaction to all this over-emotionality, definitely not a sniffle. Not from Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house.

Amrys turned towards him, not asking and put an arm around him, pulling him close. The were-leopard was a few inches taller and Snape felt protected. Safe. Cared for. He fought to keep his skin from crawling off his body in horror at the thought. He liked the feelings! Liked them a lot. How odd that it was with a pack of half-animals that he would discover such comfort existed. He had never felt a time without defensiveness and vigilance when he was with humans like himself. Humans could be worse than beasts when it came to uncivilized behavior. They made an art of abusing each other.

"We should get back to the children." Amrys said and led the stiffened form of his paramour out of the crowded bathing room. Severus was struggling to keep his composure, Amrys pretended not to notice, giving him time to regain his control. Snape stopped in his tracks. 

"We should bring Potter with us. He wished to see the children." The tall, dark haired professor said. He turned to re-enter the room. Amrys stopped him, arm across his chest.

"Just now I think Lucius needs him more. Graeme will take care of him. Of both of them. We will see them later. Right now, you are thinking too hard. You need a diversion. Remember, I am here, you are here, and neither of us is leaving." Amrys said, offering the proximity of his body to comfort his human lover. He was pleased to note that Snape gave in, unconsciously leaning into the contact. Behaving uncharacteristically but fittingly in Amrys' view, submitting with his body, holding nothing back. A thing he would not easily do, Amrys knew. Not for any other. His lover was a proud man.

Discovering the way Severus reacted to him had been a great boon. Amrys didn't submit, not to any but his king, he had no desire to. To Lucius alone did he willingly bend his knee. At first the professor from Hogwarts, with his strong personality, had seemed to be out of reach. Also a man who would not bend or submit. Confident, unyielding, firm and in charge. But the attraction between himself and the human just wouldn't fade. Amrys had taken the opportunity when it presented itself to get closer. He had not been disappointed. Just the thought of the slender, strong body underneath him was enough to arouse him to fever pitch. He held the man closer.

"Yes. Well, I was merely thinking it was a convenient time." The Potions Master offered with quiet dignity. Oh. That silky, wonderful, darkly sweet and velvet voice. Amrys fought against the shiver. He wanted to....

"You are a soft hearted man, Severus. Don't change that." Amrys, the second of the pride whispered, pressing the man up against the wall they were passing. A few more quick, strategic steps and they were inside one of the many alcoves. He ran a hand up under the crisp white shirt, feeling the smooth skin of the slim man's stomach under his palm. Warm, smooth, the skin jumped at his caress, Amrys felt awareness of the contact ripple through them both.

He took the man's mouth, hard and fast, their tongues clashing, holding Severus' wrists tightly, up against the wall, then drawing them together, until he held both in one hand, behind the man's back. He loved this. When he held the dark haired man like this.... It took only an instant before Severus moaned into his mouth. He swallowed the sound. The vibration, against his sensitized mouth, driving him to further assert his dominance. 

He bit the pale flesh of the man's throat, sucking it into his mouth, marking him with teeth and suction, too aware of the rush of blood under his teeth, wanting to feel some of that heat in his mouth, sliding down his throat. He wanted to taste the blood that flowed in his lover's veins. Trembling he lifted his head away, gulping down air, trying to gain a fraction of the distance he needed, before he gave in to the involuntary bloodlust and did drink.

The Des of the pride distracted himself with long swipes of his tongue over and around the ear of the man he held captive, nibbling, far enough away from the singing flow of blood to gain some control. Ah, but this was good, burying his nose in the black hair, sniffing the scent of herbs and light sweat and behind it all the burgeoning scent of arousal, of pheromones burning bright, hot. The promise of sex.

Amrys bore the smaller man down onto the fur stacked wide bench, pressing him flat, pinning him with his body, shredding his clothing with a deliberate claw. Severus felt the sides of his trousers split under the assault of the razor sharp digits, heard the fabric almost sigh apart, felt the coolness of the air against his heated skin. Amrys pulled the ruined bit of clothing off, tossing it aside. Then he used fangs to rip off the shirt, until only tatters remained.

Severus, sensing what his lover wanted, even after their short association, lifted his legs, letting his head fall back, his body arching, defenseless, available to Amrys to satisfy every lust. Amrys growled as he moved in, sliding over Severus' beautifully offered belly. He licked it, the flatness, the soft skin, the few sleek dark hairs, tasting sweat, tasting desire. He bit the flesh, pulled it into his mouth, sucking on it, while Snape wiggled, letting out a hiss of near pain.

"I need you." Amrys said, when he lifted his head, eyes dark and burning. 

"Yes. Anything." Snape hardly recognized his own voice, thick with passion. He was achingly erect, the head of his penis pressed against the were-leopards throat. Amrys smiled, dangerous, hungry, he rubbed his cheek along the length of Snape's arousal, his eyes never leaving Severus' fevered ones. He rubbed again, slower, letting his breath wash over the tip in a wave of heat. Snape moaned, hitching his hips higher, his legs moving restlessly.

Amrys smiled, he licked his sensual lips, moist mouth tantalizing, tongue flicking out, almost touching. Snape moaned, urgent, quivering, eager. Amrys carefully ran gentle teeth over the shaft, his lips sealing over the site of his near-bite, licking, sucking, moving up and down the hard column. Severus saw sparkles as the other man swallowed. Down to the base and up again, pulling off to lick, kiss the marble-smooth shaft. Severus whined in the back of his throat, blood thundering through his ears.

The were-leopard's tongue dipped into the crease between cock and thigh, through silken hair, licking, working down, over to the sac, cradling their delicate burden. He opened his mouth, bristling with half-human fangs, oh so carefully took the orbs inside. Snape could not hold his head up any longer. He dropped his head back, freeing his hands, holding his thighs, opening himself wider to Amrys' attentions with one, the other sinking into the dark blond locks, fisting the strands, filling his hand with the silken tresses. 

Spit slicked over his balls. They were rolled in the heated cavern, laved, until he was shuddering, whimpering, his erection pulsing above his lover's curly blond head, throbbing, threatening to attain release from this one act, without a touch on its desperate length. He fought it, the orgasm building over him, the skin tingling rush of sensation, Amrys sensing it pulled away, letting the slickened orbs fall.

But instead of moving up, Amrys moved down. Severus burned. The sweet soft, persistent touch of wet tongue on his most intimate place. He started to shake. He drew in a sharp breath, freezing in disbelief, waiting to see.... Yes. Amrys licked him, there. His tongue knowing no limit, no shame. slipping inside, before Snape could decide if it was horrible, or...oh definitely, oh, w..o..n..d..e..r..f..u..l. So wet, so slippery, slickery wet, hot silk, easing in deep, turning, inside of him, so mobile. Gods. Severus groaned. His hips were melting, beyond orgasm, the relaxation colliding with his passionate fire, finding no release. It built and built, the tongue dancing, soothing, moving, slow, teasing promise of a mind-shattering moment just a second away. 

He'd never in all his adventurous life, in his broad experience, had anyone do this to him. It melted his very marrow. Amrys, hot breath, muscular, strong, sopping tongue, running in and out of him, a mini-cock, fucking him with it, seeking out each of all the thousand nerve endings, caressing each with salty saliva, nipping the portal's edges, sucking, until it was madness gripping Severus, until he had no choice, his body shaking, his breath a hoarse rasping gurgle. Just on the brink, then the tongue pulled away, back, Severus was left wordless, begging with his panting moans, his shaking body, shattered, waiting for....

The long fingers slipped into him, filling him, stretching him, holding him on the brink of ecstasy, moving into him, dilating slow, thumb caressing over his tight drawn scrotum, pressing the sensitive, tight orbs, he let out a choked scream. The long, thick fingers curled, wiggled, sought out, pressed, right over his prostate, sending sparks out, shooting through him, burning, his scream part of the orgasm that defeated him, burned him, seized him, lifted and left him limp, his erection bobbing wildly with a life of its own as he gave himself completely over to the release. He trembled, fluid gushing, no strength left in him, his legs useless, sliding down Amrys' sides, spread, shaking, one heel hooked over his lover's glorious, radiant brown-gold hip.

Then he felt Amrys slide into him, his erection smooth and hard, big, reviving the ripples of orgasm that were still fluttering weakly, had been fading away. Severus swallowed the dryness in his throat, managing to moan, joyously. His head was spinning, his body lax, relaxed, sated, but for the demanding shaft that pierced him. Entered him with slow authority and ownership that was beyond denial. He was his, utterly and completely, no longer his own man, but part of the man who was moving inside of him, who's shaft rode into his depths, belonged there. Had to be there, could not be any where but inside of him. The first stroke was deep, hitting the sparkling place inside, the second deeper, the third throwing his head back and he was keening, shivering, cumming again without ever having finished, rested or recovered from the first orgasm. Different, this one, harder, broader, a deep, deep well of emotion, thrilling through him, filling him until it overflowed, without any effort or seeking, a passionate gift from the body that filled him, rode him, pleasured and owned his very soul. They lay limp together, breath matched, hearts echoing in synchrony, dripping sweat, entwined, utterly spent.

A step sounded outside the alcove. Amrys raised his head and looked at the man standing there. Older, grandfatherly, garrishly bright robe enough to burn the corneas. Just the one who was not wanted here and now. He bared his fangs, halfheartedly, sensing no danger, no threat, just a nasty amusement from the grey haired figure.

"Well, Severus," Dumbledore said, folding his hands over his abdomen, contentedly. "It is easy to see what has been distracting you."

Severus Snape reacted as if he'd been touched with a cattle prod. Jerking upright to half-sitting, naked except where Amrys lay over his body, between his legs, still buried inside of him. A red flush flamed over his face.

"Have I come at a bad time?" Dumbledore asked, his smile sweetly vicious, eyes twinkling with innocence. He was not foolish enough, even in his amusement, to come in too close to the beast that had been rutting with his Potion's Master.

Amrys tried to growl, but despite his best efforts, he had to settle for a mild, sighing, "grrrrrrrrrrrr?" That quickly faded into a purr of satiation. As long as the Headmaster kept his distance, Amrys was prepared to let him stand and wait. And wait. And wait......


	85. Chapter 85

Chapter 85

 

Dumbledore settled himself into a comfortable reading chair as the kitten carried in a pot of steaming tea. He did not recognize the young male, the young man was not a student of Hogwarts, though he was certainly old enough. Must be a pure lycanthrope, no wizarding blood at all. The headmaster only just managed not to sniff his disdain. The willowy youth set the pot near to the Headmaster, avoiding getting nearer than he had to and left to fetch cream and honey. Dumbledore watched him go, eyes lighting on the firm, well rounded buttocks. Well, perhaps the little beast was not a total loss. 

The honey pot was set near to his cup, a small pitcher of chilled fresh cream next to that. A plate piled high with tea biscuits was already at hand. Dumbledore sighed happily, already feeling the saliva filling his mouth. He loved sweet things, his eyes darted back to the rapidly retreating bottom and the boy attached to it. All sorts of sweet things. Succulent things.

A discreet cough drew his attention back to the two other men in the room. The headmaster blinked, forcing himself to forget the boy and concentrate on the critical negotiations he was determined to force to his advantage.

The blond lycanthrope's eyes were half-lidded, glittering, disapproving. Dumbledore held back a snort, as if the man didn't enjoy the fruits of this exotic, bestial culture himself! They had no sexual mores, no modesty whatsoever. He'd caught the man rutting with Severus in public, by Merlin, and there were stories aplenty of wild orgies... Now the were-creature was acting as if Dumbledore should not have been looking at the boy like that. As if he, a full blooded wizard of impeccable family, should not have the right to even look at the little naughty minx....

Amrys leaned back in his own chair. His hackles were fighting to stand on end. There was something very wrong about the man who was daintily sipping his tea in the chair across from him, waiting to state his business. Amrys wanted to throw him out. Or at the very least, to rub his face into the floorboards, wiping that smirk from his mouth. The way he had looked at Stephan....Amrys growled low in his throat. Amrys hadn't liked the look at all. Dumbledore pretended not to hear.

Severus Snape was dressed, covered completely, his ablutions seen to, his collar buttoned all the way up his throat. His face was stonily correct. He made no mention of the state he and Amrys had been found in, not even when the older wizard had tried to joke with him. Severus knew there was not a genuine attempt to draw the two of them closer, rather, Dumbledore wanted him to be on the defensive. Wanted to sneer at him. Put him at a disadvantage. Snape had not worked with the old buzzard as long as he had without learning the headmaster's favorite tricks.

"How may I help you?" Amrys asked, his manner calm, unruffled. He had not seemed the least disturbed by being caught naked, in flagrante. He had taken his time dressing, not bothering to wash his lover's seed from his skin. He liked the smell. He liked Severus. He liked sex. He liked being one of the pride's rulers. And this was his home. He had every right to make love to his cherished man. If others insisted on violating his privacy, showing no decorum, then they would get an eyeful, he would make no apologies for that. Nor would he allow them to succeed in making him uncomfortable.

"I am here to meet with Lucius. We had arranged a meeting to discuss the return of the pride's students to Hogwarts." Dumbledore, paused to sip at the very sweet tea. A terrible shame he could not think of a reason to call the delectable boy back for another little peek and pinch. "I also am concerned over the amount of time Hogwarts' potions professor is spending away from his classes and his house. He is Head of Slytherin House. He should be attending to *some* of his duties." The old man stirred a liberal measure of honey into his refreshed cup. The spoon clinked as he set it down, lifted the cup and saucer to his lips. The man he had directed his comments to didn't flinch, damn him. Dumbledore's fingers itched for a chocolate, or a lemon drop.

"I am listening." Amrys said, with perfect manners. Dumbledore sipped, his brows raising. The tea was wonderful, not a thing to ridicule there, the honey wondrously rich, the cream perfectly fresh. Damn. Even the crispy biscuits were sublime.

"I had thought to meet with the king, with Lucius. Continue our preliminary discussions." Dumbledore stated, silkily, offering his grandfatherly smile. Amrys shook his head, not pretending any regret.

"He is not able to entertain you at this time. He is conducting pride business. If you wish, you may return at a later date, whenever he is able to see you. Or....you may speak with me, now." Amrys let his leg brush against the long, black clad one of the human professor. Snape tensed at the unexpected intimacy in front of his supervisor but didn't pull away. Jumpy, Amrys thought. And what wonder, with this slimy headmaster smirking and simpering at him knowingly.

Dumbledore appeared to think for a moment then reluctantly he nodded his defeat. "The school grounds are now safe for the return of all the students, including the lycanthropes. It is raising questions, their continued absence, especially in light of the rumors of just who was attacking and killing the children." 

Dumbledore frowned at Amrys, as if he saw something dishonest in the pride's second, as if he expected Amrys to fail at this task, fail to understand what the situation required. Amrys quirked a corner of his mouth, untroubled by the attempt to make his feel some guilt for the situation. He was familiar with that trick, kings liked to use it, courtiers and lords. Amrys had grown up not responding to the subtle pressures. Not allowing himself or his feelings to be manipulated by others who wanted to command and use him.

"One of your own professors was killing the students. Not one of us." Amrys offered mildly, reminding the wizard of the true circumstances, not the rumored ones. "Surely you have informed the parents that we are not to blame? And just who was."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, taking another sip of tea. He did not meet the second's eyes. He selected another buscuit, swirled it in the tea. Nibbled.

"Ah. So that is how it is." Amrys nodded. "You have not told any that we are not at fault. You have let them believe we are." He could picture the man nodding in sage sympathy, letting the falsehoods go unchallenged.

"Well. No purpose would be served by letting it out that the culprit was one of the school's teachers." Dumbledore insisted, raising his chin defiantly. "The damage to Hogwarts would not be minor. The school would be ruined."

"Yet, it is acceptable to leave them with the impression a lycanthrope is responsible?" Amrys was astonished by the deliberate duplicity. His hair once again tried to stand on end, he felt his fangs extending. "Then why would you even consider having our vile kind back at your school? And how will you protect them from harm once they are back?"

"There have been concerns raised...other parents are not sure the school is safe... since none of the lycanthrope families have sent their own children back. The retrun of the pride's children would be a first step at restoring normal realtions." Dumbledore seemed to be considering his next words. Finally he said, "Many have refused to return their children to the school until it is proven safe by the return of the children of the were-families. They believe there must be another attack imminent, or the lycanthropes would be back in school. Surely you can see the lycanthropes have an obligation to return immediately."

"This dilemma is one of your own making." Amrys said, dismissively. "If you would announce who was responsible and that she is dead, then there would be no such worry. Instead you allow rumor to convict us. We who are innocent of any wrong doing in this matter. You have made your bed, now sleep in it."

"Surely you won't abandon the children in this fashion. Hogwarts has been their second home." The old wizard adopted a conciliatory tone. "They need the school, the learning, the training we provide. If your children would just return, there would be no need for this to go on as it is. The fear would be dispensed with. The rumors quashed."

"Not all the rumors. You would still allow the rumors that lycanthropes are responsible to persist." Amrys pointed out. "And that is not acceptable."

"It is the least damaging scenario....the reputation of Hogwarts will be protected. And we both know nothing will ever be proven against Lucius." Dumbledore wheedled, his bright blue eyes hard, glittering.

"No. If you want our children to return, then you must announce the truth. I will not send any back to Hogwarts and risk someone thinking they must take revenge. Our children, our pride, our species, is innocent. It was a human witch who was responsible. And another witch who aided her. No shape-changers were culpable. You are wrong to let any believe we bear any blame for the attacks or the deaths."

"Hogwarts' reputation will be damaged. Perhaps irreparably." Dumbledore whined. "The school will suffer..."

"The truth is the truth. Lies are not the way to deal with this crisis, wizard." Amrys insisted, lip curling.

"The Ministry of Magic is shocked and appalled that our screening procedures failed to catch Professor Trelawny's instability... They wish us to be placed on a three year probation. That, coupled with the release of such knowledge to the public....Hogwarts would be destroyed. No self-respecting wizarding family would send their children back to us." Dumbledore allowed himself to shudder. He would have to step down, take responsibility, resign. Be publicly humiliated.

"The Ministry is not my concern. We are a people apart. A sovereign nation on our own. The Ministry can not compel us to do anything."

"But you need us. The teaching we give to all children, yours included." Dumbledore insisted.

"Then announce that Trelawny is responsible. Then we will send our children back." Amrys stood firm. The school was a help and it should not be put out of business, but neither would the lycanthropes agree to be the scapegoat. Unfairly blamed, vilified.

"Perhaps there is something more I can offer you. Or your...lover." Dumbledore murmured, his voice dropping into an oily whisper of conspiracy. 

It took a moment for Amrys to react. He yawned. The teeth that started out human were long, preternaturally sharp fangs by the time the yawn was full. The fangs glistened. He licked one canine, then the other lazily. Allowing a long moment for the wizard to see the lethal points. Amrys blinked his glowing eyes at the man sitting across from him.

"I will not agree to being used as a pawn in this, Albus." Snape spoke up angrily, his tone frigid. His expression was thunderous. "It is simply unconscionable."

"But, surely you of all people can see the advantages...." The headmaster asserted, stubbornly.

"No. Thank you." Snape sat stiffly. Amrys waited until he was certain his mate had said all he felt he needed to.

"I will not agree to returning our students until you have made it clear the lycanthropes are not to blame for these events." He said quietly, firm.

"Perhaps Lucius...." Dumbledore began. Amrys shook his head.

"We are of like mind on this." Amrys answered. "You will be wasting your time."

"Very well. But, I will merely pass it on that a rogue witch was responsible. I will not agree to releasing her name or her position. Is that acceptable?" Dumbledore managed through clenched teeth. He was furious, this was not how he pictured the talk going.

"Yes, if that is all you you can come up with. I would prefer the truth. But, if you will not agree to the full truth, I can do nothing for you that your conscience does not. The children will return, once we have heard that you have cleared our people of all blame. There must not be any doubts that linger. No possible misinterpretation." Amrys fixed the old man with the full weight of his glare.

"Naturally not." Dumbledore grumbled. He glared at them both, his colleague and the were-leopard. Then he turned on his heel to leave.

"Oh, headmaster?" Amrys called out to him, still reclining comfortably. His voice deepening ominously.

"What is it?" Dumbledore turned, snapping at the man irritably. His brows were drawn down, gaze threatening, unmistakably unhappy. His teeth ground together. He would have to work hard to salvage his reputation.

"You would be well advised not to approach our young in any capacity that might be misinterpreted. We will defend our young-lings. And...." He paused, watching Dumbledore's face contort with outraged fury...

"Your invitation is revoked." Amrys smiled as the immediate reverse-apparation flowed over the wizard, taking him by surprise. His image twisted, stretched, and pfffttt! he was gone, absolute amazement written across his howling face. 

Amrys sat with quiet dignity and watched the disapparation, casting his eyes cautiously to the side, trying to catch Snape's expression. 

Stony. Disapproving. Amrys swallowed. 

Then Snape's dark eyes flicked over to his gaze. The rigid visage cracked. The fearsome Potion's Master Head of Slytherin House, Defense Against the Dark Arts Scholar, broke down and collapsed, giggling madly.


	86. Chapter 86

Chapter 86

 

Lucius lay with his head on Graeme's lap. The copper haired were-leopard ran his fingers through the long white-blond locks of his king. Amrys sat cross-legged on the end of the bed, his hip brushing Lucius' legs. Snape had stayed with Draco to look the Mother and his new children over. Harry had been persuaded to go along, not that it had taken much convincing. He was eager to see the new infants. Hopefully Yaji and Mantheer would allow him close enough to touch the babies or the Chosen would be very disappointed. 

Graeme had his doubts but it was worth a try. He himself had not gotten closer than the doorway of Draco's rooms before being warned off by the larger were-leopards with an impressive threat display. They were fierce in their protection of their mate and his offspring. For, in spite of Amrys' fathering of the heirs, Draco was undoubtedly the mate of the guardians. Time would see that mating consummated. 

Only Severus and Amrys were allowed near Draco and his babies. Even Kaithas was turned away when he had come at Draco's request to see if the children were indeed not resistant to lycanthropy. Tanith roused a cacophony of roaring protests when she had come to pay her respects. She had gracefully withdrawn, without anger, she was as Graeme thought a very wise woman. 

Snape tended to enter the nursery without warning and had never been challenged by either of the hovering leopards, completely accepted by Yaji and Mantheer as belonging with the heirs, necessary for their well-being. Amrys was far more cautious, crawling in on his belly, waiting for the other two to sniff him over letting him enter with their approval most of the time. Graeme had to admire the human wizard's gall. The man would be a fine leopard with balls like that, willing to face down the guardians without so much as a shudder of un-ease. If Amrys ever asked for permission to turn him. Graeme would back his choice. If Amrys did not think of it, Graeme intended to bring it up himself. No wonder Amrys, always a lover of were-leopards, had finally chosen this man as his one human lover. Unless Graeme was far less observant than he thought, as his future mate, too.

"So, Dumbledore will not come clean." Lucius said, resting comfortably under the soothing touch of his Tres. He moved his cheek so it rubbed along Graeme's thigh. He was not surprised that the wily old wizard was not going to take any of the blame for one of his teachers, one he had been tasked with full responsibility for approving, turning out to be a deranged killer.

"No. Not for any price I would say. He will protect his own interests even at the expense of all the lycanthropes." Amrys asserted. "I have agreed to allow the children to return to their studies if he makes it clear to the rest of the wizarding world we had no part in the killings. If he fails to clear us unequivocally, the risk to our kittens will be too great to send them back to Hogwarts."

"It can be argued that we also hold some responsibility for the events that occurred. We should have suspected Andromeda sooner and watched her more carefully." Lucius sighed. "I at least sensed her madness was growing. She had been frustrated in her aims for so long it drove her over the edge of madness. I should have realized she would take such drastic measures. I should have seen it and stopped her."

"Her insanity was well hidden. We watched her as we were able. There was no sign she had sought the aid of the mad witch. A woman who should have been in Azkaban if Dumbledore had watched *her* well." Graeme insisted hotly. "Besides, you had tasked me with her elimination. I was too late. I should have left the Manor and not returned until I had found her. I should have killed her when she was seized by Tambyn's people. Not allowed her to live and to escape."

"We trusted that they would not allow her to escape, that she was held well in their custody. Trelawny broke her out of her prison. We could not foresee that." Lucius said, melting under the caressing fingers of both his co-rulers. Amrys had pulled the king's feet into his lap and worked at them with his strong hands. Lucius barely held back a groan as he continued with his train of thought. 

"Dumbledore could argue the same, that we did not watch Andromeda well enough and so caused all of this tragedy. Sybil Trelawny was a teacher, one who showed no sign of her madness until it was too late to stop her." Lucius said, enjoying the rhythmic stroking of the hand on his head as it feathered through his thick hair. His third had always been the one to take on this duty of comforting his king. Amrys joining in was an unusual bonus. The second sensing the king was in need of special comfort and responding to that.

Amrys and Lucius, close as they were, were less likely to offer each other physical or sexual comfort. They slept next to each other, had for decades now, inseparable, but their ranks were so close that at times Lucius felt Amrys, though called his second, held a rank equal to his, that he was an extension of himself in a way that went beyond ruling as second to the king. Amrys took pains to assure the king that he *was* the second, that he *was* subordinate, but Lucius, especially now that Amrys was the Sire, thought that to be cutting the truth a little fine. 

The loyalty that Amrys showed to the pride and to Lucius was unquestioned. He was a wall of strength at the king's back. And Graeme, the one who followed the laws to the letter, the one who enforced them, who took the role of guardian of pack law, he was the one who reached out his deadly hand and petted, calmed and loved away the hurts, be it by his touch or occasionally with the offer of his submission, of his body and sex. Lucius accepted and valued that from his third. Rare thing that a king was so blessed with two who ruled with honor, loyalty, and such love at his side. 

There was no competition between them. No questioning of their rightful places. Lucius had shared his Chosen, his beloved, with the Tres. Graeme had accepted, as well as submitted, just as Lucius had needed him to. It had been almost unfair to force the issue, force Graeme to acknowledge their positions, their ranks, but Lucius had required it. So Graeme had willingly, happily, given him his body, reaffirming that Lucius was his dominant and his king, that Lucius owned him, his loyalty, every thing he was. Lucius nuzzled his face into Graeme's palm, feeling the resultant shiver of acknowledgment run through the third's body.

"He should have felt her magic, when she used it so close to him. He is the Headmaster, he must be aware of all the spells going on at Hogwarts. He is not a weakling wizard. He was lazy, didn't take the time to monitor the wards." Graeme asserted, firmly. He traced a finger over a fine-wrought eyebrow, ran a thumb along the curve of his king's ear. There was silence among them for a time, then Amrys spoke, low into the quiet.

"Are you well, my king?" Amrys asked. He circled his hands around the king's ankles, rubbing away the tension, moving up the calf of each leg. Until he was rewarded with a sigh of bliss.

"I am well as can be expected. I ache for my Marked. I tried to tell him the reason he was leaving with the Weasleys. That it was not punishment. That it was because it was best for him, for them and for the pride. He did not believe me." Lucius' voice was thick with the recall of his former Marked's pain.

"He obeyed." Graeme said, with satisfaction. "He did what his king requested of him. That is the act of an honorable leopard. He will be a good, strong man. You made the right choice for him."

"Giving up your Marked was an unselfish act. It is what I would have expected of you, you are a more than average king, Lucius Malfoy, I am privileged to follow you." Amrys added his opinion. He knew how hard the act of giving up the kitten had been.

"To rule beside me, with me." Was Lucius' response to that, reaching down his powerful arm to seize one of Amrys' hands, squeezing it. "And I did not wish to give him up. I wanted to hold onto him with both hands, to sink into him, meld our bodies into one. I was not being noble when I let him go."

"Yes, you were. You are the noblest of kings. I would not have any in your place." Amrys said with quiet certainty.

"Harry was glad to have one less to take your attention from him. Though, at the ceremony he realized just what you were giving up and it tore his heart in two." Graeme put in quietly. The Chosen's reaction had pleased him. The boy had love, compassion, as well as an untutored strength. Strength could be cultivated. The compassion he had shown was far more rare and valuable. It could not be taught.

"He possesses great depth of feeling, does my Chosen. For all his protests, for all the troubles he has had adjusting to us and to our way of life, I think that keeping him was the right choice after all. I had feared for a time, I had not been wise. That despite my love for him, despite the pull between us, that it would have been kinder to end it when he first came to me, before we bonded as king and Chosen." Lucius murmured. "I did not like to see him suffer, I did not know how to relieve it."

"I think, my king, that even then the choice was already made by fate, that you could not have done other than what you did do. The binding was set in the first instant that you met. Kaithas has spoken of the strength of the ties, he has never felt any so strong. You never had any choice, it was set, meant to be, the Gods hands were in it." Amrys said in turn.

"How romantic!" Lucius half-laughed. "I was no doubt not what he wanted at first. I am old and set in my ways. He deserved the love of his fellow kittens, innocent pleasure, not this deep, frightening binding he must live with day in and day out. He was not prepared for it. I have to possess him, own him. Control him. It is hardly what a kitten's first love should be."

"You are a were-leopard in your prime!" Amrys chided gently. "And this relationship, it is what you both need. Nothing is without trial. Nothing worth having is simple and without conflict. It is the power of your feelings for each other that make it so. You need fire, he needs flame. Together you burn until he is roused to be the balm, then he accepts and soothes your heat. He will keep you sane, my king. He will be spoken of with reverence by the generations that follow ours. They will know how great his gift is to you and to the pride as a whole. He is needed and loved." Amrys spoke softly, with absolute assurance, conviction.

Harry, outside the door, felt faint. He had tried to stay with Draco and the new babies, but Yaji and Mantheer would not have it. He had had a glimpse of the two tiny, beautiful children, but after that one glimpse not even Draco's pleas on his behalf had swayed the huge guardians. They'd growled and hissed, Harry had wisely though reluctantly left, heading back, wanting to be with the king if he could not stay with Draco and fuss over the infants.

Now he had inadvertently heard the words Amrys had spoken about him. He could hardly credit it that the second would feel like that, that he believed that about him, Harry Potter. Harry sniffled. 

Lucius lifted his head, hearing the tiny sound. He nodded at Graeme, the third got up out of the furs and padded on silent feet to the hall. He lifted the emotional kitten into his arms, carried him back to the king. Lucius enfolded the small, cherished body into his embrace, holding him close. Graeme snuggled up behind the boy, while Amrys, completing the group, slid behind Lucius, long arms wrapped around his king.


	87. Chapter 87

Chapter 87

 

Draco demanded to be let out for a while the next day. He left the babies in Snape's care, somewhat reluctantly, as he had wished that Yaji and Mantheer would let them go outside as well, then wandered out onto the ground, breathing deeply of the crisp, early morning air. 

Mantheer was with him, close behind, alertly scanning the area. Draco doubted that degree of vigilance was necessary, not any longer, but he was thankful to have the big cat watching out for him. Bill Weasley had greatly improved the wards, Draco had seen the plans and diagrams. He'd been very impressed. Even Dumbledore had had to have permission to enter the Manor. A condition that had no doubt irked the older man. Draco smirked. It sure paid having one as talented as Bill at the king's call.

He smiled. He was truly happy. It had seemed like nothing would ever compare to being the heir, being a lycanthrope, but the babies, the real heirs, were wonderful, blessedly quieter than he'd been led to expect infants were. He had finally caught up on his rest. With Mantheer and Yaji always ready to jump in and care for the children, it had not taken long for him to recover. 

He was continually amazed at how alike the twins were, and how like their father, the Sire. Their hair was nearly the same color as his, though theirs had not yet thickened still downy soft as feathers, and their eyes were darkening away from the pale gold color that had at first reminded Draco of autumn leaves, their irises now were a deeper amber, changing so rapidly Draco was constantly surprised. They were more alert, aware of their surroundings, looking around, tracking movement. When they weren't blissfully asleep.

The babies had also seemed to form an attachment to Severus Snape. They perked up whenever he came around to examine them. Well as much as babies that young could perk up. Draco was not looking forward to when his professor had to leave, to go back to Hogwarts. He liked having the wizard around to help, just for company if he was honest with himself. He actually liked Snape.

The feel of the damp grass was startling when he stepped onto it with his bared feet. And welcome. He loved being outside, feeling the wind in his hair, against his face. He strolled along the well-manicured lawns. Mantheer was instantly at his side, hand on his shoulder, as together they walked beneath the overhanging trees, Mantheer shielding him from the unlikely possibility of an attack, or maybe just falling tree limbs.

Draco missed Harry. He smiled at that. Who would have believed that Draco Malfoy would end up friends with Harry Potter, would want to actually seek out his company? The competition between the two boys had never been jovial or friendly when they were enrolled at Hogwarts. Draco didn't exactly know why that was. 

But here, at the Manor, among the members of the pride, things were different. Less angry, more caring, safer. Draco knew no one was going to make fun of him for liking the other boy. For talking with him, for being silly, or caring what happened to him, caring if he was happy. School never made either Draco or Potter happy. There was a constant underlying anxiety, as if they had both been watched and monitored, others just waiting for a chance to ridicule them for the smallest weakness. 

Here, though, Draco snuggled up against Mantheer as they strolled, here things were better. If he needed a hug, he got one. He smiled as Mantheer lifted him up, knowing exactly what Draco wanted. Riding in the big man's arms. Being held. Feeling the awesome flex of muscle against his body. Draco sighed in undiluted pleasure. 

Sure he had not been taken to the furs yet, but he had started thinking about how it would be when it happened. He knew it would happen.He knew his view of sex had undergone a fundamental change. He probably was still heterosexual, or would be if he was not living with the pack. He was astonished how little of his time was taken up with worry over anything at the moment, even things like sex. 

The wizarding world was more oriented to heterosexuality, family lines, here no one lay with the females without sanction. The females were the carriers of life fundamentally sacred. They lay with men when a child was desired, when they, the females wanted them. Males did not lay with them to slake their lust. 

Draco had never considered a male lover. Not until lately. Even the brief pleasure Amrys had given him had not changed his mindset. But there was something that had changed. He didn't know if it was being accepted into the pride, or if it were simply opportunity or situational, but he found himself considering taking males to his furs, becoming excited by the prospect. 

Well, scratch that. Not unspecified males. He was thinking of Mantheer and Yaji. He loved having them near, loved touching them. Had hated being away from them when he was at Hogwarts. He had taken the chance to go home at every opportunity. He had spent time with them. And never questioned himself, or his reasons. They had made him feel safe, good, and loved. None of his school friends had known how he felt about them. They were held deep in his heart, away from possible ridicule. He would not have tolerated the jeering comments of Crabbe and Goyle or the other Slytherins. Not about the pride, most especially not about his guardians.

Dating girls and the last two years of taking them to bed, that was entirely separate from the pride and his life there. He wondered if his feelings for Mantheer and Yaji had been the reason he had never even came close to experimenting with other boys. Seemed like every one else had. Better to have a fumble with your best chum, than risk rejection from one of the girls, Draco supposed. Only he had not been rejected. He had done fine, enjoyed the encounters with girls, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, even a lone Gryffindor. None of the Hufflepuffs had appealed, but that was neither here nor there. 

He had wondered, after the conception, what it would be like to have had an affair with Harry while they were at school. He had tried to find it arousing but failed. Harry was courageous, kind, and passionate. Yes. But he was too young. Sure Draco liked girls his own age. But men? He preferred older, stronger, powerful, intimidating. Men who were large, muscular. He realized he had completely imprinted on Mantheer and Yaji. His tastes when it came to males were set for life, before he had even realized he had such attractions. He squirmed in Mantheer's hold, ran a hand over the fantastic bulge of the larger man's bicep, squeezing. Mantheer rumbled, nuzzling his throat, while keeping an eye on their surroundings. 

Oh, Gods, that was fine! To feel the rush of adrenaline the man's touch sent coursing through him. An undiscovered well of riches. His body tingled, he felt a definite twitch of interest in his groin. The first since the birth. He had not expected it, not so soon, but it was there, a burning hunger, an emptiness, a desire to be filled, as he had only experienced once before. Too bad his body had been changed from the hermaphroditic form he'd taken on to give birth. experimenting with that body would have been fun. But knowing Mantheer and Yaji, they would not have taken a female to their furs, not even him. Not even a young man with temporary female parts.

Now, fully male once again, maybe it was time. He felt a rush of desire, of interest. Mantheer's nostrils dilated, he drew in a whuff of air and Draco knew the were-leopard had picked up his pheromones. Knew Draco was aroused. The big hand that cupped his buttock confirmed it. Not that it was a true grope, nothing so crass. They both treated him like he was made of glass. It was exactly the right thing, too, because he trusted them not to hurt him. They were huge men, far larger than himself, and larger by a good bit than Amrys. And Amrys had scared him. Mantheer and Yaji did not. They would touch him with reverence, with massive hands that held only gentleness, sweetness and concern, and heat, and lust and love. When it was time Draco was not going to be afraid. His whole being would be singing with need and desire. 

He smiled dropping a careful kiss over the pulse at Mantheer's neck. He was looking forward to the time. He was happy being the Mother. He was happy with his children. He was looking forward to them growing up. To seeing them someday rule. He was looking forward to the future without worry and anxiety. Perhaps the first time he could say that. He knew his place in the pride, now there was no worry it would be taken from him. He had felt adrift when he discovered he could not change, that he'd never be a lycanthrope., It didn't matter any more. He was the Mother.

He hoped Harry was as happy. He had seen Potter briefly the other night. When Harry had tried to see the babies. Yaji and Mantheer had not been comfortable or welcoming. Still in maximum protective mode. They had chased Harry away after mere moments. They were however, beginning to relax a bit as the twins became more familiar to them, as Draco felt better. Soon they would allow other visitors, though they would remain protective, Draco had no doubt. 

Draco hoped Harry was being taken care of. He'd heard of the debacle when Troy was given over to Bill and Charlie. How Harry had cried, taking the angst to heart, finally understanding what emotions were involved, that the king took no casual lovers, that Lucius had loved the other kitten, and that his leaving so young, prematurely was a source of great pain to the king as well as to Troy himself. 

He wished that Harry would experience something that wasn't painful. The pride had tried to love him, but Harry always seemed to end up hurt. Draco thought they would all just have to try harder. Harry was too important to the pride and to him not to make sure Potter knew how much they all cared about him. In fact, he wanted to do something to see to Harry's happiness. He pursed his lips. 

The lycanthrope kings had accepted Tanith as the Queen, no doubt still shaken by what Harry had done. The females of the pride were pleased. Everything was hunky dory, but what did Harry have to show him the pride understood his place? Sure they called him the Chosen, but a boy like Harry, coming from the family life he had growing up, he should have something more. Something that could not be questioned.

Harry should have a wedding of his own. Draco squirmed in Mantheer's arms, the excitement sudden and undeniable. That was it. He was going to give Harry a wedding. Even if it was just among their pride alone, it would mean a lot to the other youth. When he saw that Lucius would stand up with him and speak the words of commitment, that would mean a lot. that would confirm the feeling his father had for his friend. His best friend. Draco pressed his grinning face into the guardian's neck.

"Mani? I need your help." Draco said.


	88. Chapter 88

Chapter 88

 

Harry swallowed. He was nervous. He was still in shock over Lucius agreeing to let his godfather and Remus Lupin apparate into the Manor for the meeting. Lucius had not parted with Sirius on good terms during the last encounter. He resented the other man trying to take Harry from him and the pride. So, the king insisted on being present for this meeting, between wolf, wolf, and leopard. 

Lucius still didn't trust the wolves. Especially when it came to the safety of his Chosen. Godfather or not. Harry, all a titter, happy to have support with him when his godfather arrived, and very happy it was Lucius, reluctantly agreed. Sirius had tried to enlist the help of his own king to take his godson away. And Tambyn took the further step of calling on the Seer's Council to get custody of the were-leopard, through legal means. The were-wolves would be here at any moment. 

And Lucius was going to be at hand, in case there was any more funny business planned. Graeme had offered to be there, but Lucius had declined, trying to keep the gathering lower keyed, have more of a chance it will be peaceful. Less likely to explode into some horrific confrontation. He hoped that would be possible. The volatile nature of the black wolf was a wild card, hard to predict. Having the quick to react Graeme there, in the audience room, ready to jump in and defend any slight, well, it wasn't too stabilizing an influence. So, just Lucius. With help waiting on alert, only a quick call away.

Harry paced through the private audience room. Quivering with excitement and anticipation. He was eager to see both Sirius and Remus. He'd missed the teacher during the time he had not been studying at Hogwarts. Sirius had long been traveling out of the country, only to return and learn Harry had been changed into a lycanthrope, but not a wolf. A feline. It had infuriated the other man. He had hoped to have Harry accepted into his own pack. But by the time Harry was of age at 18, it was too late. He was a were-leopard. It took some serious, unstable magic to change that, and the magical treatment had been refused him. The Seers thought Harry was perfectly placed where he was.

Lucius watched his Chosen. The raven-haired boy was frantic with nerves, his cheeks flushed pink. Harry had begun sitting calmly by Lucius' side at the center of the couch, one shoulder brushing the older man's arm. He had started to fidget almost at once. He'd been quiet for about two minutes, then his leg started jumping and swinging. He plucked at his tunic hem, unraveling the edge of the silk.

Lucius read from the stack of scrolls he'd brought with him. Talking to Harry did not calm him, that usually required some kind of physical exertion and right now sex was not the best option. Harry would be upset if his godfather walked into that kind of stress reduction, so Lucius remained quiet, letting Harry work off the excess nerves his own way. The young man fairly vibrated with energy that had no where to go.

Harry had progressed from swinging his leg, to fidgeting, to standing, and finally to shifting foot to foot, then to hop-walking. Now he was pacing. He was rubbing damp palms on his robes, the loose trousers and tunic not inhibiting him at all, billowing out as he turned and paced, paced and turned. He nibbled on his already short fingernails.

They were waiting for Sirius and Remus just under ten minutes when Lucius felt the change in the air and looked up. Harry, still pacing, was doing it with a lashing, long, darkly furred tail. The extremity twitched and waved behind him, quivering, with Harry paid no attention to it at all. In fact, Lucius would lay bets that his Chosen had no idea he was now sporting a tail. Lucius sighed. He knew this was not how Harry wanted to meet the wolves, as a cat. But once the process started, the youth was not too terribly gifted at reversing it, until he had gone to the entirely furry stage.

Lucius hoped that Sirius was not going to be much longer. He let the scrolls fall into his lap and watched the youth pacing restlessly. The enticing tail and delightfully pert bum twitching under the fine silk, made for enjoyable watching. Harry was muttering to himself, twining his hands, wringing them, as he waited. He bit his lip, and Lucius had a nearly impossible urge to overcome, putting his own mouth there.

The ears were next to go, just as Lucius had learned to expect. The young man had never found it easy to retain his human ears once the change began. This time Lucius watched as the two small human ears morphed into two large, mobile, triangular ones, nice and furry, also twitching, front and back, back and front, alternately flattening to his skull and lifting to point alertly forward. Again Harry seemed unaware of the change.

The click, click, click of claws drew Lucius' gaze to the floor, and the big fluffy paws that had by now, substituted for Harry's bare feet. Half-extended claws, tapped on the floor with each step, faster and faster, tick, tick tick, as Harry never slowed, rather he increased his pace. 

Lucius let the scrolls fall off to one side of the couch and concentrated his entire attention on the youth, he raised his brows as, with a sproing!, the long, stiff, black whiskers sprouted one bristling group to each side of Harry's very human nose. 

Finally, Harry noticed, stopping and raising his hands to his face. He poked himself in the nose with a sharp claw. Then his hands flew up to his ears, fingering them, two large fuzzy triangles, and then waved his tail into view, craning over his shoulder, frowning. Then he extended out a hind paw and wiggled the kitty-toes. He pouted, opening his mouth experimentally he tried to speak, succeeding in producing a tentative rowl. He sighed, licking his lips nervously...with what was a rough, sinuous, feline tongue.

Harry let out a moan of protest, stamping a paw. He couldn't even speak! His godfather was coming to visit and now he was not able to talk to him! He let out another tentative mewl, his eyes going over to Lucius and begging him silently for help. 

The king sat with all his attention focused on his Chosen, waiting to see what his beautiful, half feline mate would do next. Harry's expression grew thunderous, his lips pushed out, and he yowled. Lucius braced himself for what was sure to happen next.

Harry sprang. He easily covered the dozen feet that was between them. Landing in Lucius' lap and yowling his distress. Lucius petted him, stroking the luxurious fur. Digging his strong fingers into the kitten's growing ruff, as Harry continued to change forms. Emerald eyes glittered, frantic, anxious, Lucius murmured soothing sounds, purred, nuzzled and stroked the distressed young-ling.

It seemed that Sirius and Remus were going to have to make do, at least for a while, with a kitten.


	89. Chapter 89

Chapter 89

 

At the two sharp "pops" that heralded the apparation of the wolves, Harry lifted his head off of its resting place on Lucius' lap. Lucius' fingers, tangled in his fur, released their hold after a last, gentle scratch. Harry let out a quiet "mewwwww". He sat up a bit and watched as the two men appeared amid a cloud of dirt and sandy debris. He waited, head cocked to the side, as Sirius and Remus dusted themselves off, sending a veritable storm up into the air. Harry's sensitive kitty-cat nose twitched, whiskers bristling.

Remus was first to finish, he looked up. His kindly eyes fixed on Harry right away, immediately he took a step forward, smiling. "Hullo, Harry. Looks like you got a bit excited. It is good to see you again." He hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at the other wolf. "Come on, Siri, hurry up. You look fine. A bit of dust isn't going to put Harry off." Remus smiled at the waiting kitten.

Harry perked up at that. He sat all the way up on the couch, untangling himself from where he had been curled around the alpha. Uncertain of the greeting he would receive, he hesitated to jump down and run to the man he considered his only real relative. After all they were canids, and he, was a feline. But, Remus seemed really glad to see him, kitty or not. Harry sat up straighter, scootching closer to the edge.

Sirius finished shaking out his coat and bounded over to the couch. "Feels like we just apparated through the entire Sahara on our backs." He grumbled, the characteristic frown almost genial today. Harry squirmed restlessly at the verge of the couch, leaning forward, his tail quivering eagerly, almost falling off onto the tiles, Lucius' hand steadying him at the last instant, saving him from an ignoble tumble. Sirius' black eyes drilled into his godson's emerald green ones. "You really do smell bad." He grumbled. "Like a cat, or something."

Remus rolled his eyes, but managed not to say anything in return. Harry blinked, waving his tail somewhat uncertainly. Then Sirius threw his arms around the boy/kitten, hugging him hard. Harry tried to wrap his own arms around the man, but they didn't bend in the same ways as human arms. He ended up with his paws draped over Sirius' shoulders and his tongue enthusiastically lapping at the were-wolf's face.

"Oh, god! Your. Breath. Is. Horrible. Harry. Fish breath!" Sirius half-grumbled, turning his face side to side to avoid the wettest of the licks. Remus rapped him sharply on the top of his head.

"We talked about this. None of that. He's a cat. We can't all be perfect you know." Remus warned his mate. "No snarking. Be good, Siri." He winked at Lucius, who was very interested in the greeting going on next to him. Harry obviously loved this man. Actually both of them, but especially the dark haired, disheveled man he was grooming so enthusiastically. 

Lucius watched with interest as Harry was allowed to continue licking his godfather, purring and waving his tail. Sirius finally had to give into laughter despite wrinkling his nose at the were-leopard scent. Harry at last backed off, panting with excitement, just as Sirius lost his precarious balance and the two of them tumbled to the floor in a heap of arms, legs, furry limbs, with one long tail sprouting up from the middle of the tangle.

Remus and Lucius exchanged a look. Remus could not hold back an unusually broad grin, one showing all of his slightly sharper than human teeth. And in response Lucius lost his battle with dignity and roared with laughter. Harry's head popped up at the sound and he blinked at his king who was clutching his belly as he chortled. Sirius raised his head up off the floor a moment later, looking as if he wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. One look at Remus decided him, and he grinned in turn.

"Why don't you sit?" Lucius offered mildly, once they had recovered a bit. He pulled Harry up to sit near him on the couch; personally he thought Harry smelled distractingly wonderful. Indicating the comfortable chairs in front of the couch, he waited until the two were-wolves were seated. "He'll be able to change back soon. Until then, would you care for tea?"

Remus accepted the first cup. Sirius the second. He glared at the brew. "Could use a pint, instead." He groused, falling into a slight scowl as he sniffed the bland steam. "Or at the very least a butter-beer." 

Harry rowled in definite interest at the last, casting a beseeching look at Lucius. Lucius bit his lip to keep from laughing at his Chosen and nodded. "Yes, I would enjoy one myself. But, kittens in animal form do not drink alcohol. You will have to change back, love." His pale blue-grey eyes were affectionate and warm as he regarded Harry, one brow raised in challenge. Harry showed all his teeth.

"Please bring us three pints and a butter-beer." Lucius asked the guardian who appeared in response to the summons. The tall male disappeared out the door once again. "Now, Harry. Concentrate. A deep breath. Relax."

Harry closed his eyes and did his best to obey the quiet instructions. He took a deep calming breath. He wanted to be human. He wanted to talk. He wanted to have a butter-beer with Remus, Sirius and Lucius. He *liked* butter-beer. He hadn't had one in months. Hadn't missed it until now. But, now, he needed one. 

The fur receded slowly from the young man's face, fading back from the quivering whiskers. The transformation was gradual, from kitten to youth. At last Harry sat, quite bare, on the couch next to the were-leopard king. Lucius handed him a folded pair of trousers from the back of the couch. Gratefully, Harry slipped them on, just as the tray with the drinks arrived. Harry eyed his tall bottle eagerly, licking his lips, he was, abruptly, so very thirsty.

Lucius solemnly handed it to the young man at his side after serving the guests first. Harry nearly pounced on it. He took a long, delicious pull at the drink, feeling the liquid slide smoothly down his throat. He swallowed, eyes drifting closed, as his thirst was quenched by the cool, tangy-sweet taste of the butter-beer. He drew in another mouthful, gulped it down. Sighed and shivered a little. Then he lowered the half finished bottle, smiling happily.

The three men in the room were staring at him. Lucius openly, the look on his face one of intense hunger, Remus with a pink flush to his cheeks, and Sirius in pure shock. Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Lucius reached out and stroked a soothing hand down Harry's side. Harry leaned into the touch, scooting closer to the big, comforting body. 

"You are quite beautiful, Harry Potter." Lucius said, not shy about declaring his affection openly in front of these men, who to him, were near strangers. They were important to his lover,which meant Lucius wanted them to have no doubt as to how he felt about their friend and godson. Harry looked up into Lucius' handsome face, the look of adoration was enough to make Lucius' heart swell in his chest. 

The sparkling green eyes, the parted lips, the faint pink tinge to the silky, smooth skin. Lucius knew he was lost, and didn't try to fight the impulse that compelled him to lower his face, to cover Harry's mouth with a gentle, loving kiss. His mouth melded to the soft, sweet lips that clung to his own, the chaste kiss blossoming to an open invitation, he allowed himself to give in, a fraction, to send his tongue into the wonderful, warm mouth of his Chosen, to lift his hand and cup the youth's chin. Harry's hands rose to grasp Lucius' arms, to curl around the thick biceps he admired and loved to feel. Making clear his desire to be held closer.

Lucius pulled back from the kiss at the very last instant before he would have tumbled Harry back onto the couch and moved to cover his body with his own. He wanted desperately to tear the recently donned pants from the body he craved, he wanted to sink into its well known depths and whisper his love and need into the pale curve of throat that arched so invitingly under his mouth.

Sirius and Remus were both still as statues, pint glasses held in numb fingers as they watched the sensual exchange going on in front of them. Sirius' glass slipped the last little bit, crashing to the floor, shattering, spilling the drink across the tiles. Unnoticed, and unmourned.

Sirius tried to feel enraged, appalled at the lack of privacy for his godson, wolves were never so overt, but he was not able to deny the sheer beauty of the two were-leopards together. They touched each other with unmistakable love. There was worship in the hands that cradled Harry's face. The were-leopard king's eyes were filled with....reverence. There was no other word for that look. Lucius Malfoy loved his godson, loved Harry. Sirius took a deep breath, wanting to growl and bite and snarl, prepared for it, but...now, seeing this, he couldn't.

"Harry." He said softly. And waited until the boy's shining face turned to him. It was all he could do not to gasp at the expression that dear face held. "Oh. Harry. I am so glad for you. I am so...pleased. I have no reservations, not now. I wanted you to be with me, so I could care for you, keep you safe, and keep you from being hurt. But, if I had to lose you in order for you to find this.... Then I am grateful, I thank Merlin that you are happy." 

"In that case," Draco said, from where he had been standing in the doorway, listening. Yaji loomed behind him, hovering protectively. "I guess we can expect you for the wedding."

Harry whirled around and stared at the other boy. Lucius drew himself up. "What wedding are you referring to, my son?"

"Yours and Harry's." Draco responded with satisfaction. He lifted his chin. "Don't you dare say no, my king, it is time you made it clear what your Chosen means to you."

Lucius regarded his son for a long moment, Harry held his breath as the king deliberated, then Lucius nodded. "Yes, it *is* time."

Harry let out a squeak. Dropping his own butter-beer.


	90. Chapter 90

Chapter 90

 

Draco was grinning from ear to ear as he allowed Yaji to carry him away from the meeting between Sirius, Remus, Lucius and Harry. He'd crashed the meeting with the best of intentions, making his announcement to all the men at once.

Things could not have gone better. Walking in on that kiss between his father and Harry...he still tingled from just thinking about it and hearing Sirius' acceptance of the obvious then being able to announce the planned wedding. He had actually made Harry squeak! Most importantly, his father had agreed to the wedding.

Well, not really a wedding. But a ceremony. Acknowledging the feeling the two men harbored for each other, the deep sense of commitment. Lucius was already married in the eyes of the lycanthrope community. To Tanith. The pride's female seer. But, it was not a marriage in more than mutual respect and the recognition that the female's of the pride needed the position of traditional power that the Queen represented. It was a marriage of friendship, not passion.

So, while this ceremony would mean more to the men who took part, it would not challenge the Queen's place. Harry though, would be given the chance to see how he was held in love and valued by the people he was now part of. The pride. And after the ritual was completed, no one would doubt how the King revered him, loved him. Harry needed to know he was loved. Add to that, Sirius and Remus had agreed to participate. All in all Draco was pretty happy.

The only fly in the ointment came when Remus had come closer to greet him, arms opening in preparation for a hug, and Yaji had grabbed Draco up and swung him out of reach, snarling low in his throat. Remus had diplomatically withdrawn, he wasn't a stupid man after all. 

"Yaj," Draco had scolded the big man in exasperation. "We are going to have to talk. You, me and Mantheer." Yaji's fiery eyes had met his, and the guardian had showed bared fangs. Not the resolution Draco was looking for.

Draco knew he was going to have to address this overly possessive protectiveness that the guardians were exhibiting towards him. It was easing up some now they actually let him leave his rooms, but not fast enough. Even now when he did leave the rooms, he was almost always accompanied. He liked that they watched over him and the children. But he was ready for a little of his own independence back. He smiled as he leaned his cheek into Yaji's shoulder, letting himself enjoy the warmth, the feeling of complete safety, of belonging. His own hand rested on one of the large man's arms, the play of muscle very distracting.

"I am not going to be in danger from Remus," Draco murmured. "I know he is a were-wolf but he was my teacher for several years. And I am not a were-leopard. I will be safe near him. He has no reason to harm me."

Yaji only grunted. He did, however, lower his head and sniff at the silky tresses of Draco's hair. The only smells there, were Draco's, the twins', and Mantheer and Yaji's. No stranger's smell. The scent seemed to calm him, his posture relaxing, the embrace not so fierce, not so tight. Draco let out a sigh. Better. It was nice to be held, just not squeezed quite that hard.

Once Yaji carried him into the rooms they shared with Mantheer and the babies, Draco fully expected to be set down on the floor so he could get on with his business of the day. Instead Yaji carried him across the room all the way to the great bed. 

Mantheer looked up from where he was bending over the cribs. The blond saw the gaze they exchanged and knew in a split second they had different plans for him. His breath caught in his chest. The right time had finally arrived.

Yaji placed Draco in the center of the mattress, crawling up into the furs after him. Draco felt something shift at that simple action. The intensity of the large guardian was different, his eyes unflinching, soft, but with an intent in them Draco was not able to miss. Yaji was going to touch him, really touch him, make love to him. Now. Today. Draco began trembling. He lifted his arms and put his palms against the smooth-shaven cheeks of the man leaning over him, sinking his fingers into the thick brown hair. 

"Yaji," He sighe, as that one turned his face into the simple touch of the young man's hands. Yaji applied his tongue to Draco's hands and wrists, long, hot-wet caresses. Draco whined with need when he felt the suction on his skin. The tenderly nibbling teeth.

"Mine," Yaji growled at him. "Mine." Draco blinked at the insistent demand.

"Mine," came Mantheer's answering statement from across the room. Not in challenge to Yaji, not really. His voice was even deeper. And no less possessive in tone, each supporting the other's claim.

The raw, masculine beauty and power of the were-leopards startled Draco anew. Yaji was not classically handsome, nor was Mantheer, but they were supremely, aggressively male, confident, strong, exuding passion and drive that meant so much more to Draco's heart and to his body. They overwhelmed him in a way his only other male lover, Amrys, had not. None of his women had come close to generating this much feeling. These men would devour him. Mark him, claim him.

Just that quickly he understood. The hyper-protectiveness, the displays of ownership. It was in reaction to his, Draco's, not being fully Claimed. He had not publicly acknowledged who he belonged to. He had known in his heart that he would, at some time in the future, take these two men as his lovers. Wanted to. But, he had not done it yet. So, they kept him jealously close. Fended off all others, any possible suitor. 

The two large men did not even like their king too near, too often. Draco imagined that the reason they tolerated Amrys was not because he was the Sire, but because Severus was his lover. Snape held Amrys close, not liking it much when Amrys went to others, snarkily letting him and everyone around them know, subtly but unmistakeably of his disinclination to share. Severus Snape was still needed for the children. Yaji and Mantheer guarded his children for their safety, but they guarded Draco as their beloved, as yet uncommitted. And so, held very tightly.

Draco had been taken by only one man. The man who had fathered his twins. Amrys. He was far more comfortable with the physical relationship between male and female. His attractions and experience had always lay in that direction. Until now. Until he had felt the bond growing between himself and the two guardian were-leopards who had meant safety, love and acceptance to him all of his life.

That love after he had become pregnant had evolved, changed. He had started to fall in love with them. To look at them differently. To want them to touch him for different reasons. The thrill that moved though him when they held him had nothing to do with safety. It was sexual. Draco didn't know how to have a sexual relationship with a man, let alone two. Sure he had had intercourse with a man, understood the mechanics, had even enjoyed it to a degree. But a relationship was far different than just sex. He drew in a shuddering breath.

Amrys had been gentle, careful and Draco had experienced pleasure. Yet when he let himself imagine laying with Yaji and Mantheer... he shivered in alarmed delight as the craving tore through his body. It was more than he had felt when his children were conceived. He wanted this. The calloused hands, the huge bodies, the flexing of awesome muscle, the sheer power of both to overtake him and drive him to ecstasy. The men who would command his body, his lovemaking, his release. And protect him while they loved him. They would never hurt him. He would not need to worry, or to fear them.

Mantheer glided over the floor towards them, huge and predatory, hungry, his own face changing, becoming flushed, not able to ignore the rising scent of arousal that was no doubt filling the air. He lifted his face in the air sniffing. His fangs dropped, he growled.

"Mine," He repeated, this time Draco knew what to answer back. 

"Yours." He confirmed, then turned to look up at Yaji, hands still holding him, fingers buried in all that long, brown hair, "Yours." He said again. Just to be clear that he did belong to both.

Draco shivered as Yaji's hands went to the neck of his robes. Anticipating this, what was going to come, was so good, so good. Yaji sucked one of the young man's fingers into his heated mouth, causing Draco's eyes to fly wide, he squirmed at the sensation. It ripped through every cell, all the way to his pelvis, turning hot and liquid there. Long, slow, drawing at his digits, wet, lapping around his palm, he dropped one hand to his groin and squeezed himself, desperately. He was on the verge of coming, of losing control before it had begun, he groaned, trying to stop it, fighting. Barely staving off the threatened release.

Mantheer's teeth rasped over his throat compelling Draco to let out an, "Oohhh." Mantheer smiled at the desired sound. Yaji drew away.

Mantheer straddled the younger man, knees sinking into the pale, tawny furs, careful to keep his weight off the slender body. Light blue eyes stared up into his face, as Mantheer folded back the edges of the robe, as he followed the path of the loosened buttons. The bed dipped as Yaji rolled back towards them, Yaji looked at the other big man, sharing an intense look. Then both turned their attention back to Draco.

Draco was a flash of ivory laying on top of the bed between Mantheer's huge, powerful thighs. He was staring at them with awe on his beautiful face, his lips parted, breath coming quickly. Mantheer reached out pushing his hand through the soft, blond hair, long enough now for the ends to to curl in a froth around the youth's shoulder blades when he stood. Sleek and shining, color like the hair of his father, the king, and a profusion of curls like his mother's.

The lush lips begged for attention, not to be forgotten, Yaji leaned down, depositing a tender kiss on Draco's mouth. A soft brush of sensation, drawing out a sigh, then growing fractionally deeper, sweeter, a lapping of tongues together, meeting, tasting each other. In sharp counterpoint, the light application of teeth and lips to one bared nipple as Mantheer laved it, kissed it, suckled it into his mouth. Draco cried out, arching into the unexpected touch, sensation shivering through him.

Hands lifted him, laid him back down on top of Yaji, who cradled him, his body cushioning the young man he adored. He pushed the hair from Draco's face and coaxed their faces together, so the kiss could resume, sensually intense, oh, so sweet. Draco answered the deep rumbling growl with a shocked moan, the sound of the bigger man surprising him, arousing him. His body felt liquid, heated, needy, desperate for more.

Mantheer ran his tongue down the back of Draco's thigh, wonderfully wet and warm, ghosting along the newly tasted skin. He savored the fresh sweat beading over the youth's pale skin. Let his teeth graze one round buttock, licked it gently to soothe the sharp bite that had made Draco gasp and shiver.

His thighs were spread, Draco thought he would stop breathing when he felt the tongue touching him there. Not hesitating, loving him, tasting him so intimately, slipping into his startled body. Leaving him wetter and wetter, his body loosening, shivering wanting more and more. He felt the thickness move up to press between his legs, behind the soft flesh of his scrotum, slipping over the entrance to his body, meeting Mantheer's tongue.

The tongue drew back bit by bit, relinquishing position to the hard shaft of Yaji's erection, slicking it with wetness. Draco drew in a breath, quick and strained, feeling the slow, careful press of that shaft into himself. A short part of the length, and no farther. A gentle press and relaxation, an easing forward by minute fractions. And the return of Mantheer's welcome, soothing tongue.

To where Yaji was entering him, unembarrassedly, Mantheer tasted him where they were joined...Draco moaned, long, loud, unbelieving. No, nooo, nooo. It was too much. The hard fingers holding his hips, strong enough to break him, but so careful as Yaji pressed in, until he struck deep, so deep, and Draco arched his back, taking in more. Oh god, there couldn't be more. Surrounded by hot male flesh. Filled with it.

No. 

Oh. 

Please.

More.


	91. Chapter 91

Chapter 91

 

His release washed over him like a tidal wave, catching him before he was ready. He threw back his head and cried out, shivering with the feeling, rolling with the waves. Draco's thighs wide-splayed, as Yaji never slowed rocking deep into him, riding him, prolonging his release, driving him to the brink and over, all the while holding him with careful hands, not letting him free, not letting him away from the almost unbearable intensity. 

Until Draco heard himself sobbing, reaching out to grasp at Yaji with numbed limbs, fingers slipping, as he tumbled through the sensation, anchored only by the touch of skin and shaft of flesh. He shook, body clenching, his pelvis turning liquid, into heat. His semen splashed out over the flat, corded belly beneath him, while he shook and shuddered, helpless in two sets of strong arms.

"Draco." The quiet murmur woke him. He sighed in relaxed, perfect contentment. His sleepy eyes wouldn't open yet, but he snuggled closer, his mouth open, licking at the chest his cheek was resting against. The flavor was wonderful. He knew who it was, the taste implanted forever in the sensory memory of his brain. Mantheer in front of him now, it was at his chest Draco licked, Yaji behind, a solid, reassuring warmth, gone now from inside the young man's body. He was happy to be where he was, in between them, cuddled, loved.

He managed another lick. And this time his tongue found a real treasure. A nipple under his mouth. Flat, soft, not much to rival a woman's more succulent nipple but he would not have traded this one for any other. Draco sucked on it, took it into his mouth, suckling with drowsy intention and softness on its firming peak. Mantheer let out a moan, his urgent need impossible to miss, a deep groaning. Mantheer's hand came up to cup the back of Draco's head, to hold him close, support him as he licked and sucked the tiny, erect nub.

Hands ran down his back, following the contours as if glued to them, ending with palms molded over his buttocks, petting, stroking, the very tips of curious fingers dancing over the soft pouch of his scrotum, sliding, calming. Draco sighed happily, and pressed against the huge body in front of him. He felt Mantheer's hard cock, substantial and full, resting against his stomach, filled with blood, hot. The tremor of need forced him to raise up and blindly scoot higher.

Mani understood, tilted up the pointed chin, dropping the softest of kisses on the pale pink mouth that sought his. He fed at that mouth, with the most careful passion, nibbling the full lips, down over Draco's chin, and his bare throat. His attention there, leaving a kiss-bruise, a mark to state his ownership. Then back up, where he could kiss, draw his tongue over the swollen mouth, lick, lick, his thumb brushing the wetness, and repeat. 

Sinking his teeth, human blunt, into the ripe flesh, never breaking the fragile, passion swollen skin, but still, hungry for the response, for the impassioned puffs of breath that he caught in his own mouth. A taste of his young lover, sweet and fine, to breathe in and swallow down. To lick across his tender face, nurse at the small Adam's apple, at the hollow of his throat where his two collarbones met, sweepingly perfect, that hollow, the sweat beading there, pooling. Waiting to be lapped up, smeared with a fevered kiss.

A light touch feathered across Draco's forehead, rousing him from his languor, his limbs too heavy to move. Warm, and large, the hovering form above him, he felt wonderfully comfortable. Resting against a smooth, muscle packed chest. Surrounded, embraced. Draco felt the smile growing on his face involuntarily. He squirmed closer to the warmth, raised kiss puffed lips and small aches erupted over his whole body. Aches that remind him exactly what he was doing, what he had done and pierced him with the desire to do it again.

And then he remembered, his body recalled, a visceral memory, like being there again, in full coupling. Spread wide, open, filled full, being taken to the peak. Oh. Yes. Yaji had been inside of his body, thick and long and so damn perfect. That part of him, that most intimate part, Draco had let the slickened shaft pierce into him. Driving him crazy with overwhelming sensations. Making him scream, good screams, begging, rewarded with an orgasm he would remember all of his life. So intense he lost consciousness. And woke to this different bliss. 

Mantheer stroked him gently, Yaji curled up behind him, his body sheltering and supporting, sticky just a bit, way down there, but Draco didn't mind, even if it brought a blush to his cheeks. In fact the idea, what it reminded him they were doing, not long ago....that sent renewed shivers throughout, top to bottom, toes to nose. And the kisses, oh, they went on, Mantheer not letting them stop, not letting Draco's mouth cool, rather keeping up the relentless, pleasuring assault, this time with his tongue, giving tiny licks, then delving into the youth's mouth to tangle inside.

Yaji whispered his name again, the words ruffled in his hair. Draco turned toward the large man and lifted his arm to wind it around Yaji's neck. Yaji lowered his head. And Draco got the second man's kiss, he wanted, craved. Placed on his mouth, hungry still, hot with the kisses from before. He slipped his tongue out enough to touch the curve of Yaji's lower lip. His hand groped out, found Mantheer's hip, dug into the impressive muscle, sculpted, smooth, oh so tempting. Tried to drag him closer. He thought of that power, guiding Mani's heat into his center, and he cried out, nearly erupting, from nothing more than imagining.

"You are, were...uh, Yaji....ji...." Draco finally managed to almost say, not fully coherent. He felt the beginning of a blush rise, then he had better things to think of, as Mantheer grabbed his chin, brought him back to the kissing. Feeding of mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. 

He had been afraid for one tiny instant, when he realized how well endowed Yaji was. He thought he would tear, or be hurt, but he had not felt pain, he had felt fantastic, thrilling with sensations that while fairly new to him, were very, very pleasant. And he wanted it, more, wanted Mantheer this time, with an urgency he could not defeat. Just like Yaji, his soul cried, 'bury yourself in me, just like he did. Be mine own. Claim me and thus let me claim you'. 

The ghost of that feeling rippled along his nerves, and he let out a moan. Yaji smiled against his neck, the young man's neck, bent forward, nape waiting for the teeth, the were-leopard, raked across the vulnerable flesh. Draco's skin tightened his eyes rolled back, he moaned, his skin shrinking tight, a web of need, of demanding. 

Draco turned to face Mantheer, eyes half shut, he tangled his fingers in the dark hair. "You. I want you, too. Please?" He whispered his plea into the man's ear, then he bit the lobe, sucking it into his mouth, teasing, worrying at it. He wanted to have them both, today, the first day as physical lovers, he wanted the seed of the one to join that seed that already slicked him. Something drove him to have them like this. He couldn't rest easy, it didn't feel right, having only one of them fully as his lover. Mantheer cupped his palm along the back of Draco's skull.

"Are you not tender? I will not hurt you, not even for this. Not even wanting you as much as I do." His dark eyes were serious, concerned, even lit with lust, they were eyes that loved him first and foremost. Draco mewled as he burrowed into Mantheer' shoulder, up to rest his lips against the wild pulse in the guardian's neck. 

"I need you. I need you. Please." He said, a soft, frantic sigh over heated skin. Mantheer, drew in a harsh breath, let it out, prayed to Merlin for control. He could not deny the boy, not listening to the pleading, to the raw want echoing in the tenor voice. Draco would never want in vain, not when it was within his power, or Yaji's, to give him what he so craved.

"Slowly." Yaji was the voice of reason, Draco gave up his control to the man he trusted and Mantheer to the man who had been his partner since young childhood. Yaji would keep them safe, Yaji would take them to the pinnacle. Mantheer let his desire free. There was no force. He reached out parted Draco's willing thighs, touched him there, still wet, his finger slipping in, slow and careful, all the way, without the resistance he feared, that would have warned him of pain.

Draco would not ever feel pain from him, not when they lay together, not when they came together in love. Mantheer was deliberate, patient, he slid a second finger inside, feeling the smoothness give to his gentle probing, relax when he took his time, shocked anew at the lush flesh gripping his digits. He wanted to sink inside this velvet sheath. To fill Draco to the fullest, to slide in and out of him, to hear the gasps of pleasure against his body as they rode each other.

Mantheer placed the flared head of his penis where he most wanted to be, his hands steady, certain, as he held Draco's hips. He looked down into the flushed face of his love, the cherished Mother, and found the courage to press inside. Draco mewled, then sighed, the beginning of what he had to have, it shook him to his core, to know that the slow entrance wouldn't stop until he had what he wanted. He felt overwhelmed, he felt shattered, unbidden, tears gathered in his eyes, ran down his cheeks. And he sobbed. Mantheer raised his head, and Yaji moved closer. Draco sobbed again. "Give...," faint, less than a sound.

"Draco...?" Yaji whispered. Draco rocked his head back and forth, moaning. It wasn't pain, it was something more intense, beyond words. He clutched at the guardian who was over him, who was in him, who had, thank all the ghods, not stopped. If he stopped, Draco couldn't bear it, the emptiness within him had to be filled. "Please..." ghosted out of him. And Yaji's tension relaxed, melted away.

"Yes, we will give you what you need." He rolled Mantheer over onto his back, lifted the slim youth over the man and guided them together. Draco's head falling back, his neck arched until Yaji offered the support of his broad chest as he straddled Mantheer, just behind Draco. Biceps flexing he held the youth, and slowly, slowly lowered him onto the thick rigid, flesh, that spread the tiny opening, which surrendered, accepting, flowering, a tiny ring of heat, impossibly wanton in honest hunger. Honest desire. And inevitably, the slender body gave way, and Mantheer sank deep. 

He had no breath, beyond that, only madness, only joy, only pleasure knowing he had what was his. He was boneless, held upright by the arms around his waist and torso, by the shaft spearing him with the most intense pleasure. His own arousal bobbed in front of him, not needing touch, teetering on the brink without it. Gods, how could he not have known it would be like this? How could he had been satisfied and but for a quirk of fate, he would not have known what he was missing? Never had this. Never realized.

He would never give this up. This alone was reason enough to live, this was the breath to live, the fire to burn, the water to run like the elixir of life down his parched throat. He had not even comprehended his thirst. Not until now.

Mantheer, thick, velvet over steel, in and out of him. Draco, felt the building glow lighting his pelvis. Heard the breath catch in his throat, echoing in Mani's chest, he fell back, hips working, taking in all he could, legs trembling. Their fingers twined together, as they moved, flesh sliding into flesh, Yaji's palms covering Draco's buttocks, lifting, lowering.

They came in almost the same moment, Draco letting out a wail, sweet and rich with the release. He sobbed again, crying out, and Yaji folded around him, became part of them.

"Hush, we are already yours. We have always been." Mantheer pressed his lips to Draco's wrist. Yaji's mouth warm on his damp brow.

"Yes. You..... I need for you to be. I need it, Mani, Yaj.... I need..." Sweat and tears streamed down his face, Yaji's mouth licking them away.

"We will always give you what you need." Mantheer reassured the exhausted young man. "We will never do less."


	92. Chapter 92

Chapter 92

 

Harry, Amrys and Severus strode down the corridor. Harry was intent on finally seeing the babies, being able to touch and hold them, maybe, if he was brave enough, not just seeing them from across a room. Professor Snape had suggested it was time for him to try again. Draco missed him, had mentioned how nice it would be to see his friend and have time to talk to him.

Harry, for his part, was very excited. If anyone had suggested last year that he would actually miss Draco Malfoy if he couldn't see and talk with him....he would have laughed in their faces. Instead, he was grinning, walking faster, thinking about it, thinking about how drastically his life had changed. He wondered what Hermione would think of him now, of this unsual friendship... Wow, he hadn't thought of her....in a long time. He stole a look at the two men walking next to him. 

It was not only his life that had radically altered. Who on Earth could have imagined that the cold, stern, inflexible, terrifying Professor of Potions and DADA, Severus Snape, could have unbent to this degree. His preferred, severely tailored robes had given way to the pride's robes when he visited, robes that floated around his spare body...and pure black had given way to black with a splash of color, a vibrant, crimson red. A red that made his skin milk pale, utterly striking.

Harry didn't miss the almost hidden caresses the two man exchanged as they picked their way down the wide corridors. How their fingers tangled together with every chance touch, though Severus was not ready to be overt enough to allow them to remain clasped, at least not in front of one of his students, they were holding hands for several seconds each minute. Harry glanced aside to hide his smile.

Snape looked younger, he looked, well, not precisely happy, he was not grinning, or beaming with joy, but he was more prone to smiles and less prone to snapping and snarling. Harry thought there never had been a human who would be better suited to be a were-leopard than his Potion's Professor. Elegant, standoffish, regal in his own way, the man reminded him of Lucius, and Amrys, and Graeme. The pride's ruling three, they all shared that inherent dignity and poise. Especially since Snape was now less vindictive and harsh. Now that he exuded an unmistakable sensuality. 

Nobody could miss the way these two felt about each other, they smelled of each other and often they smelled of arousal when they were near one another. Harry hid the rising blush when he thought of them together. Amrys had not strayed since Snape had been staying at the Manor. He remained, of course, in the king's bed each night, but, during the daylight hours, he was nearly always at the dark haired, pale skinned wizard's side. Harry was pretty sure Amrys concentrated all of his desire, all of his sexual attention, on only one person now. Severus. 

Harry snuck a look. Yep, definitely holding hands again, even if it was just fingers curled around fingers, tucked close to Severus' side, out of sight...well, mostly. Harry did have very good eyes now, since being bitten, when it came to things like this, up close. He fought not to giggle his glee. If he irked the Professor, he might not have his support when it came to trying to wheedle the fearsome guardians, Mantheer and Yaji, into letting him into Draco's room, and near the twins.

Amrys, one of the lucky few who was allowed into the vicinity of the babies, had regaled Harry with tales of their rapid growth and beauty. Normally, Harry didn't much like babies. They were small and easily hurt, which made him nervous. And noisy. A bit smelly. Oh, and they were red, fat, and fussy, and not so cute, no matter what people said about them. But something was different about Draco and Amrys' children. Harry, from the tiny glimpses he had, thought they were beautiful. Really. He wasn't just thinking it because Draco was his best friend.

Amrys slowed in the hall as the trio neared their destination. At first Harry didn't notice. Snape, always on the look out for changes, did notice when his lover raised his head fractionally and sniffed at the air, his step faltering. The puzzled look on Amrys' handsome face made Severus slow and his hand went out to stop Harry.

By then, Harry had lifted his own nose to chase down and evaluate the elusive, very enticing scent that was tickling at his awareness. Oh...what was that...so delicious, he sniffed again, his chin raised, eyes alert, wide open. He let out a whimper. Snape kept his hand tight around Harry's arm, aware that the boy was not paying much attention to his surroundings. Not that there was anything here that alarmed Snape, but it never hurt to remain cautious. Prepared. He turned his gaze to Amrys for a moment.

The amber eyes were at half mast, his mouth a bit open and he was chuffing air through his mouth and nose. As Severus watched, he saw the shiver, saw the gooseflesh ripple over the golden, tan skin. Amrys looked suspiciously familiar, aroused, heated. Snape glanced further south, and his assessment was confirmed. Superb. But inconvenitent. Amrys was erect, emphatically so, the large organ in question straining the bounds of his flowing, blue silk trousers. Snape felt his own body react, instinctively, his need rising in mere seconds to leak out of his every pore.

Amrys response was to growl low and needy, and turn toward the other man. Severus almost let go of Harry's arm, only at the last instant recalling why he was holding the slender arm in one firm fist.

Harry, for his part had figured out what was riding the air currents, but not what to do about it. He smelled Draco, he smelled Yaji, and Mantheer. And over all, he smelled sex, arousal, semen, he smelled lust consummated. His body responded, and he didn't think too much after that. The healthy wariness he held when it came to the guardians chose the direction he turned when he sought to react to the odors. He turned towards his companions in the hall.

One moment Harry was standing next to Snape, the next he was plastered to him and his hands were grasping, reaching out, touching, gentle, but demanding touches, caresses. Quiet moans began as he pressed close, needy, reaching up to try and pull the startled face of his professor down, and exchange a heated kiss with him. 

Severus, the least affected of the three, was not about to allow that to happen. Harry was his student, his charge in a way, even now. Severus Snape was not going to violate that trust because of rampant pheromones. He pried the boy's hands from their quest to more intimate locales and held him away, or tried to. Merlin, when had the boy become this strong and so sneaky?! He was so small, slender....then Snape smiled grimly. Of course, the young man was a lycanthrope! Of course he was strong. Snape was losing the battle to keep their bodies decently apart. 

Until Harry brushed against Amrys. And redirected all of that innocently blatant desire at the were-leopard instead of his professor. Harry wound himself around Amrys, raising his face to the older lycanthrope's, making tiny begging sounds. And the pride's second responded, bending his head and taking the sweet, lush mouth with a fiery kiss. Harry's mewl of need even made Snape's hair stand on end. 

But, desire or not, this was *not* happening. Not here, not now, not in front of Severus Snape, no matter that he knew that lycanthropes were prone to respond to these kind of stimuli, not even with Amrys' hand now reaching for him to pull him into this three way embrace. It flattered his ego to no end that with an armful of the lovely youth, Amrys still reached out to him, but even so, Snape was not having sex with Harry Potter, and neither was Amrys. And most absolutely, especially not in this hall, in full public view. He was half mesmerized by the sheer erotic pull of the beautiful Amrys and Potter so entwined, but he managed to drag himself away from the visual paradise and firmly pulled the boy from the arms of the second. Harry moaned in disappointment.

Snape shook him gently, blocking Amrys with his own body, feeling the were-leopard wrap long, muscular arms around him, and insinuate his hands under the robes Severus was loosely attired in. It was an immediately diverting sensation, but Snape fought to maintain his focus. It was mandatory. Or they would all tumble to the floor and couple here. And that could not be permitted. Harry was the lover of the king, Amrys was Snape's, pride dynamics be damned. Snape was not about to share.

Severus heaved them apart again with all his strength and raised his voice to his most commanding. "Absolutely not." He growled, "most *certainly*, NOT!"

It was Harry, trained for seven years to obey that voice, who fell back, shook his head and let out a noise of great, aching disappointment. Severus could not but react, his body rising to the occasion, but he firmly supressed his desires. He elbowed Amrys sharply.

"Where is Lucius? We must locate him at once." And even the second of the pride responded to the command in that tone, turning back away from the rooms that had been their destination, and taking off down the hall at a run. Severus blinked, his arms now full of squirming student. Damn the man! He hefted Harry higher into his arms and followed at a more human pace. It was his fault, he supposed, for not being more precise in his instructions.


	93. Chapter 93

Chapter 93

 

The silk shirt slid off the youth's skin like water running over smooth river stones. Breathtaking. The young muscles were perfect, his nearly hairless body the ideal of adolescent beauty, in the peeping man's opinion.

Dumbledore drew in a muffled breath, filled with appreciation, as he watched the young man undress. He was exquisite. A true shame there were other things that demanded his own attention. This boy would be worthy of any man's time. Some of the others were equally tempting. Such lovely blond curls and such an elfin face. Yes, he could certainly wet a man's appetite.

Sighing in frustrated lust, Dumbledore turned from the window, lowering his spying-lens and went back to his desk. It was just plain bad luck that the Quidditch season was nearing, the young athletes beginning to train, he was too busy to enjoy it. He usually set aside a significant portion of the proper time of day to spend at his window with the magical lens pressed to his eye. It made it possible for him to watch them as if he were in the team rooms with them. If the wizarding society were a little less conservative, he would not have to be nearly this discreet.

But, that was not to be. He had been careful, his entire career, he'd maneuvered and arranged, keeping everything under wraps, letting no one, even those closest to him, know where his desires lay. He had finally achieved his goal of teaching at Hogwarts. A spell or two in the right places and no one suspected, still, how he liked his pleasures. Just a pleasant dream in a student's mind and Dumbledore was satisfied. He didn't need to have it often, he understood the risks too well to get greedy.

He forced himself to be content with the little things. A careful touch while a youngster slept, never enough to wake them. A pat on one of the broad shoulders of a young athlete, Oliver Wood had been the best for that. Very suggestible. And Dumbledore had watched him writhe with passion standing in the shadows more than a dozen times. He had felt a great loss when Wood had left the school. 

But now, he had other problems than missing Wood or any of the other unwitting young men and women who had fulfilled his fantasies and taken care of his urges over the many years he'd been a teacher, then Headmaster, at Hogwarts. Now he had to find a solution to the one problem he had not yet been able to fix. Before it tumbled his house of cards.

The were-creatures had not notified him of their intent to return their children to Hogwarts. That was disturbing. He had thought that giving them time to stew, to contemplate the loss of magical education, would prompt them to admit his proposal had merit. But, it had not happened.

That damned leopard-man, Malfoy's second in command, Amrys, had rallied the groups and they now stood firm in their resolve. Unless Dumbledore spoke out and acquitted them all of wrong-doing and any complicity in the attacks, they would not return. He ground his teeth as he thought about the outrage.

To make matters worse, Severus had remained at the Manor. He had not said if he was preparing for the new school year. Or if he had thoughts of resignation. Everything was in a shambles. If Snape stayed and lent his support to the animals, they would win. 

Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, though not so powerful as Severus. He had merely manged to hype his skills to the point that people thought he was the best. Wanted him to teach their children. He wasn't weak by any means, but there were several others who were head and shoulders above him. One was professor Severus Snape. Snape kept the Hogwarts' wards intact, a task delegated to him by the clever Headmaster. 

There was simply no news that was good. Even his spying-lens, the one he had left at the Manor, had not revealed any secrets worth using to apply pressure and get what he needed.

The spying-lens had provided some enjoyable moments, very sexy beasts those were-leopards, and they had a certain animal beauty in how they coupled, raw and savage. He had spent an evening watching a pair he did not recognize as they rolled in the furs together with a great deal of enthusiasm. 

It was the fault of society that he, Dumbledore, had not the same freedom to take his own pleasures where he desired. It was patently unfair that he would be ostracized if he gave in and took one of his students to his bed openly. No. He had to hide it. He could never reveal his needs. The were-leopard might have guessed, he had said something that made Dumbledore suspicious, but it had gone no further than that. And there were no lycanthrope children around for him to worry about.

A pity the teen couple he had seen had been so mature. But the pride appeared to jealously guard their young. A disappointment for sure. A diversion would be as pleasant as it was becoming necessary. It was their fault he could not risk an encounter, not even a dreaming encounter, with the type of lover he most desired. But, even the hint of a new scandal was potentially enough to end his career and force him into retirement.

The stress was weighing on him. He began composing the speech he would have to give to exonerate the damned were-creatures. He also would have to find a way of intimating someone else held blame, with out being too overt. It would not do to seem vindictive. The parents had to believe he was sad, and compassionate, that the threat had abated, and he was the reason all was safe now. But he had to present it in away that did not offend the lycanthropes. He ground his teeth. Far better that he said nothing and let the rumors take care of everything. But that was impossible.

The speech would be ready soon. He would send it out in a crystal to the prospective parents and to key persons in the wizarding society. He hated losing this battle. But, it would be far worse to lose his position due to low enrollments. Damn the animals anyway. They should have cooperated. If he failed to retain them, Hogwarts would lose ten percent of its enrollment or more, from paranoid families who would look elsewhere for schooling. An unbearable financial loss. 

Of course there might have been a chance he could arrange for similar "accidents" to take place at the rival schools. Now he had a sinking feeling the lycanthrope, Amrys, would not tolerate such a thing without speaking out, breaking the traditional separation the lycanthropes maintained from the rest of society. A tradition he, Dumbledore had relied on too heavily. He never intended to make the same mistake again. The beast-man had seemed appallingly "noble" and interfering. His threats had to be taken seriously.

That decided, Dumbledore relaxed a fraction. He was a practical man. He was also patient. He knew he was able to weather this storm. He would suppress his needs for a time, just to be sure there were no consequences lurking. He'd take his pleasures from a distance. It was necessary, he could tolerate that for the sake of his job. In fact it was time to think about the full risks he was taking. His will was strong. He could give up the touching of beautiful young flesh. At least for a while.

A man should not be kept too long from his pleasures, even woefully limited as they now were. Dumbledore raised the spying-lens to his eyes and spoke the spell under his breath. The wall to the changing rooms for the Quidditch teams wavered in the view the lens offered, then suddenly he could see through it as if the wall was not even there. Ahhh. That was more like it. He eagerly watched the young bodies revealed to his eyes. Delicious.


	94. Chapter 94

Chapter 94

 

Severus Snape noticed that Lucius Malfoy, the were-leopard king, was not alone when he entered the room in the wake of Amrys. Harry was held tight to the professor's chest in an attempt to restrict the movements of his wandering hands and softly sweet lips. Snape's face by now was fiercely red. And his pants, loose though they were, felt far too binding.

A very relaxed, partially clad Fred Weasley was laying on his back, head resting next to the thigh of his king, as Amrys updated Lucius in fits and starts, his brow furrowed in an attempt to concentrate, while the elder Malfoy absently stroked the youngling's tousled ginger hair. Bright blue eyes cracked open when the commotion of their multiple entrances sounded, but otherwise the youth did not stir, obviously far too comfortable in the presence of his king, and being petted, to want to move. 

Amrys stopped his discourse in mid-sentence, and swung around to face Snape, once he saw the other man, he could not complete his tale, all he wanted was a chance to bury himself inside the wizard. He bared his fangs as Severus approached.

Severus however was in no mood to be sensitive to the youngling's comfortable position, he was too set on getting Harry to Lucius to avoid Amrys. Without pause, he stomped over to the three were-leopards, thrusting the wriggling mass of limbs he held directly at Lucius Malfoy. Who caught his Chosen by pure reflex. Harry cried out. Fred sat up with an exclamation, quickly helping to support Harry, his attention briefly on his former teacher, then wholly on Harry, as the kitten thrashed.

There. Now Potter's roving hands were someone else's concern, Snape thought with desperate satisfaction. As adorable and innocent as those green eyes appeared, he certainly had no hesitation in seeking solace when...stimulated. Passionately. And with obvious familiarity to the landscape. Potter was no longer the shy boy he remembered. Right now he was aroused to the point of sheer agony, if Snape was any judge. Much as he himself felt. It had all started in the hall, with the scent of sex....but his instincts were telling him there was more to it than just that.

Snape supposed he should feel flattered that Harry trusted him enough to reach out when he needed care. Yet, somehow, all he felt was panic. Panic that his body had indeed responded to the mewling reaction of the kitten. Panic that he would not reach Lucius before the beautiful youth overcame even his great will and firm moral stand. Panic that he would throw Potter to the floor and ravage him. Willing. Or unwilling. Though the argument could be made that he was obviously very willing. He had never seen Potter in this particular state of frenzy. It was over the top. It worried him. His own lack of control worried him. Something was not right.

Amrys was next to Lucius, his hooded eyes were fixed on Snape's. He took a step forward, his head up, scenting. Then another step. Snape's focus narrowed down and he saw the intent in the other man's gaze. Merlin, not again, he thought. I have to think, to figure out why this feels wrong. And....Not in front of all the other men in the room. 

Please not like this. I want privacy, to have you to myself. To be able to forget everything, to lay beneath you and accept your body deep inside my own... Snape blanched. Damn it. Where was his control? He circled to place the table between them. The door, the only possibility of escape, was now behind him, and he didn't dare turn his back, Amrys was fast, too fast.

Harry, once he came in contact with Lucius' body, was single minded in his aim. He climbed up the tall body and wrapped himself around Lucius. Lucius held him, surprised by the urgency, the tremors, the rampant need that was easy to sense. His hands were gentle, and reassuring. But, clearly that was not what Harry wanted.

He smoothed a hand over Harry's head and was rewarded with a moan. He kissed the flushed cheek. Harry turned his head and surrendered his mouth to the man's. It was long and urgent and deep, Harry tilting his head back, resting against Lucius' shoulder as they kissed. A low moan continued to echo up from his chest. He trembled and shook, hands grasping at the curves of the big biceps, smoothing palms over the broad chest, trying to melt into the body of the one holding him. His other hand wrapped itself in Lucius long hair, and tugged.

Fred and Lucius exchanged a look. Fred moved to offer his body as support so Lucius could shift his grip, turn Harry's face so he might look into the young man's troubled green eyes. See what the problem was.

"What is it?" The king murmured to his Chosen. Harry whimpered. And the blond man felt his skin prickle.

"It burns." Harry complained. He squirmed seeking relief. Rubbing his erection along Lucius' side.

"Burns?" Lucius asked in alarm. "What are you speaking of?"

"I need you! I must have you!" Harry begged him, clawing at Lucius' robes, tearing them open. 

His body responded to the need in his Chosen. Lucius would give him whatever he required, willingly. But he knew that something more was wrong. Harry let out a moan and rubbed against the taut belly he had exposed, he fumbled frantically for Lucius' erection. Lucius, legitimately concerned for his own body with Harry so out of control as this, blocked the clawing hand.

"Please!" Harry moaned, and the tone, unnatural, terrified, so unlike the youth, worried the king. Harry writhed and moved, in desperate need. Lucius was floored to feel the release of his fluid as Harry orgasmed, with no more stimulation than a few moments of frottage. But the release did nothing to stop or slow the agitated motion. 

"Please?!" Harry asked again, his face dappled with beads of sweat, eyes brimming with tears of frustration. "It is burning. Make it stop." 

"I will slake your thirst, beloved." Lucius murmured, to reassure the small young man he cradled. Then we will discover what has caused this, he thought silently to himself. 

He looked up, intending to speak with Amrys, but he saw that the second was trying to corner the human wizard. They were lovers, but, Amrys was not behaving in the usual manner he directed at the man. He was stalking. Lucius frowned. So, if he was correct, then Amrys was also a victim of whatever had affected Harry.

"Fred. I need your help." He said to the youth, who was plastered up behind Harry, trying to calm him. Fred nodded and began to move a hand down Harry's belly, thinking Lucius wanted him to help Harry in that way. But the king shook his head, stopping the progress of the youngling's hand.

"No, not that, youngling, you will not touch him, I will see to this need myself." Lucius said as Fred reached out to help. Harry, though he had spent, was still writhing and begging for relief. "There is something not right here. I would not have you also affected. Only I will touch him. Go, find Graeme, bring him here. Do not touch Amrys, either, do you hear me?"

"Yes." Fred said. "I will find Graeme, I will not let Amrys touch me." 

"Good. Now go." Lucius dropped a kiss on the red hair of his youngling. Then he turned back to Harry, holding him closely. 

"Severus," he called. "Are you rational?" He inquired as Fred sprinted out the doorway.

"I believe that I am, but I do not know for how long." Was the reply he received. "My reason is not unchallenged at this moment."

"This desire is not natural." Lucius said to the other man. "Can you do anything against it?"

"I am distracted at the moment." Severus Snape reminded the other man dryly.

"Graeme will be here soon. I would assist you myself , but I do not want to let go of Harry." Lucius explained. "Graeme will take care of Amrys. Then, I wish for you to discover what is causing this. My Chosen is not well."

"It will be my pleasure to find out what the hell is going on." Snape ground out, shifting again to keep from permitting Amrys to capture him. Every cell in his body screamed at him to surrender. To take the ecstasy that Amrys always delivered. But, then, he reasoned, it would not be right to take the man, to have sex with him, if there was magic forcing him. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he burned to.

Severus was not happy about how events were progressing. He was being stalked. Amrys was still coming. While he did not fear the man, and would normally welcome his touch, now was not the time for it. Not while he was sure there was unnatural forces at work. He felt driven. He felt aroused. But it was unwilling, and it was painful. As if some one or some thing was trying to bend his will to the act. Trying to compel him to have sex, wanton, lustful, uncaring sex. Nothing like the feeling Amrys usually aroused in him. This was mindless, ravenous, devouring. 

 

Dumbledore, watching through his planted spy-glass allowed himself a grim smile. Unfortunately his spell meant to send them into an uncontrolled orgy of violent sex seemed not to be very effective. He sensed the spell was in place, but damn the luck that had let it happen when Severus was with the lycanthrope Amrys. If he had caught the beast without the other wizard, then Harry would have borne the brunt of the man's rapacious need. Harry would have been assaulted, raped on the stone floor, with witnesses all around, and then surely the proud Lucius would have cast his second out of the pride. And that would have served Dumbledore well indeed. A fitting revenge. But it had not happened like that.

From what he had seen, Potter at least was mad with need, and Amrys, the man who had caused all of the woes he was now enduring, he had seemed affected, just as he'd hoped, chasing around after Snape as he had. But not to the degree he'd hoped to see, as the spy-glass floated invisibly throughout he Manor. And Snape apparently attracted the pride's Des far more than the Potter boy. An idea that Dumbledore found almost incomprehensible. There was no accounting for bad taste.

Still, if Snape was raped, then all was not lost. He would turn against the animals he had been aiding. Perhaps it would disrupt the will of the leopards, shake them, and distract them enough for him to get some small concessions from them. The threat of sending the crystals of the assault out to the rest of the wizarding world might be enough. At least he hoped so. It was not what he would have wished to settle for. It was much less. He ground his teeth in impotent fury. Could nothing go according to plan?


	95. Chapter 95

Chapter 95

 

Graeme entered the room cautiously Kaithas right behind him and even more cautious. Responding to physical confrontation when one of the potential combatants was the pride's powerful and intimidating second....well Kaithas did not wish to be in the way of an errant claw. 

Graeme the primary enforcer of the king's punishment and chastisement for the pride, had no such compunction. He entered with authority, wary and watchful as was prudent, but not afraid. He was cautious simply not to give away any advantage. 

What he saw gave him pause. What he smelled, made him stop in his tracks. A sound behind him diverted his attention. Ron, who he had been with when Fred appeared, was with the young red head, in the room doorway, peering in curiously and with concern. 

"Stay back." Graeme growled, putting a threat in his tone. No way he wanted to risk adding Ron to this volatile mix. The kitten still smelled of unrelieved desire, they had been interrupted before Graeme had finished taking care of that.

Amrys didn't even bother to do more than snarl at his lifelong friend as he continued to stalk Severus, who was looking conflicted. Graeme could scent the human's arousal and the odors of guilt and agitation. But outwardly the wizard appeared remarkably calm. Inwardly Graeme guessed that Severus was battling the urge to give in and have wild, passionate, crazy sex. But something was wrong. Graeme sniffed, again.

Lucius called over to him. "Graeme. I need for you to divert and control Amrys. Severus and I need to consult to discover how to deal with this problem. Kaithas, I am glad to have you here. Are you unaffected?" 

"I believe that I am unaffected, my king." Was the answer from the seer. "I can sense the problem very clearly, but it does not seem directed at myself."

"Very good." Lucius said, his tone flat, with little expression. His hold on the Chosen was careful and tender, but offered no ease or comfort to the groaning youth. Harry let out a pitiful cry and the king cradled his sweating face in one hand.

It was then that Graeme saw that Harry was in no better condition than Amrys. Writhing and desperate, he exuded an unimaginably sexy mix of scents, that immediately had Graeme fully aroused. He took an involuntary step towards the youth, who was held securely in Lucius' embrace, before he caught himself and stopped, jaw clenched. Kaithas had put a hand on his arm and Graeme had been entirely unaware of the touch. He battled to regain his composure. Kaithas did not remove his hand. And Graeme knew why. He was trying to lend his own equilibrium to Graeme's, to strengthen him. Graeme nodded his thanks, then gently shook off the hand.

Amrys' chuffed at the air with the new scent. He growled, spinning around to face the approaching male challenger. He had to fight to maintain his rights to the luscious prize he had been stalking. He had to win in order to have the time to hold that one under him, and ride him to completion, to claim him as his own. He snarled, fangs sliding out, long and sharp. Graeme circled, relaxed and prepared, assessing the advantages and disadvantages he was becoming aware of.

Snape inched away, moving towards Lucius when Amrys turned his back. He had been thinking on his feet, as much as one could while driven mad by unrelieved lust and the fear of giving in to it, or being caught and ravaged. He didn't much like the conclusions he'd come to. 

Someone fairly powerful had cast a spell. The target of choice had been either Amrys or Harry. He didn't know for sure which, or who had one it. He had one very strong suspicion. He had worked for years with the grandfatherly Dumbledore. Long enough to sense there were darker, hidden depths to the man. Depths he had chosen not to investigate. Perhaps that choice had been the wrong one. In light of this happening now, it appeared he should have taken pains to find out just what had seemed wrong before. His failure to do so, had allowed this situation to escalate. Of course, He might be wrong, himself, maybe this was caused by some one else, it just seemed unlikely, not impossible.

But, if this was the Headmaster's doing...then the old man was slipping, had miscalculated badly and was becoming too desperate, too obvious. This could not be explained away by whoever had started it. It would not lend itself to forgiveness, and a slap on the back as a forgettable blunder. This was an attack. There was no way to call it an accident. It was malicious. Intentionally harmful.

Whoever had started this knew too little about lycanthrope culture to be one of them. Lucius would not forgive this act. He would not turn away, he would regard it as a direct challenge to himself, a threat to his people, and react accordingly. The Chosen was not a target that any wise lycanthrope or well informed wizard would chose. Better the king himself. The Chosen was cherished, protected, elevated on a pedestal. The Chosen was the beloved, the gift of kings. There were very formal, ritualized ways the lycanthropes permitted disagreements to be settled when the Chosen was involved. Attacks on him, well..... Some idiot had crossed the line today. And the response might prove fatal when the wizard, or witch, was found out.

Severus had managed to return to Lucius' side, moving with slow deliberation. Amrys and Graeme were still circling each other, Kaithas nearby. Nervous but steadfast, eyes glued to the other two. He would not be much help if there was trouble, but he would try.

The doorway darkened again and Severus looked up to see a were-leopard he did not know, huge, at least the size of Mantheer and Yaji. A guardian, he diagnosed, one of the watchers, the were-leopard entered, eyes on his king after his alert sweep of the room. He was aware of the potential fight, a sense of relaxed readiness pervaded his stance. A man used to physical violence, and confrontation.

Lucius leaned forward. "You will not allow them to kill each other. I want Amrys subdued, but gently, he is not at fault in this." He told the dark man. Kaithas fell back a bit, relieved. The man, Jonas, was good, skilled and very strong. While Yaji was Mantheer's first choice of back up, Jonas was a close second. He was also not an alpha, nor an alpha contender. He would obey. Not even the scent of sex, or the spell, would divert him from obeying his king's word and order. Lucius' will superseded his own.

As Jonas maneuvered himself into place, Graeme leapt. He flew through the air, lightning quick, fluid muscles reaching, wrapping and containing his friend and fellow ruler of the pride. Amrys growled in abject fury, lashing out, claws whistling through the air at the tips of widely splayed fingers.

There had been no warning, he was suddenly in the there, he was on top of Amrys. Arms locking around him, Jonas moved in, even faster, from further away, he was there in the same moment. Amrys almost manged to thrust the Tres from him, but, Graeme refused to loosen his hold, or to be budged. And then Jonas' unbreakable grip was around the blond leopard, holding firm, but not harming him. Amrys snarled, wordlessly, enraged at the restriction, his eyes rolling madly. 

His gaze frantically searched for Severus and found him, fastening onto the human with laser-like precision, his face becoming a mask of want. Severus was very careful not to touch Lucius in any way, or to move too close and give the impression he was choosing the king over the second. He sensed that would be enough to drive Amrys into a frenzy, and agitate the captured second into a more dangerous state. Amrys was nearly foaming at the mouth as it was.

Severus kept his voice low and soothing, he tried to convey his most calming thoughts. He told Lucius of his darkest fear with his answer to the king's unspoken question...what now? How could this be fixed? The fear and jealousy caught him by surprise. It was a weakness. One he had not anticipated having. He, the one who unemotionally had expressed the need to accept the way and culture of the lycanthropes, was having trouble accepting what he believed was going to be required in order to affect a cure. He felt foolish for his mind's vehement objections. He was not feeling enlightened at the moment. He was feeling possessive.

"Lucius. I am afraid I can think of only one thing to do. Spells of this nature will typically run their course when the subject partakes of the intended activity." The wizard said, voice mild. His heart twisted as the words left him.

"You mean he should be allowed to win free? And have sex?" Lucius asked, his own displeasure transmitted equally clearly. Harry let out a cry of pure pain, and the king nuzzled him, unashamedly stroking the groin of the younger man. Long loving strokes, sexual, but also a healing touch, not one to titillate. Harry fought to push up into that hand, hips flexing wildly.

"Yes, sexual congress is the only way to remove the symptoms and disperse the spell." The sight of the suffering, both of Harry and of Amrys, made Severus fight to suppress the murderous rage that was growing within himself. The boy had suffered enough in his life. He had a loving family around him now, he did not deserve this. And the man. Severus caught his breath. The man, beautiful, noble, and honorable. The last person that should be the subject of this kind of assault. Severus ground his teeth together, jaw clenched impotently.

"You will not survive him in his current state." Lucius remarked with utter conviction, only telling Snape what he'd already concluded himself. He looked down at the sobbing kitten he held in his arms. If Amrys needed sex, then clearly Harry did as well. Lucius displayed his teeth, his fury growing. Whoever had done this would pay. He stood walking toward the furs piled on his bed. A curse on the one who had done this. He bore Harry up onto the bed. This was a breach of all that was right.

"Bring my second to me." Lucius said in a voice like ground glass, a voice that cut, and might draw blood from an incautious person who came too near. Graeme and Jonas hesitated, Graeme's eyes flying up to see the expression on the king's face, then obeyed. The king was going to gift Amrys with his Chosen. Was being forced to do it. The room fell eerily silent but for the grunts of Amrys, and Harry's whimpering.

Lucius lowered his head, his lips touching the fevered skin of his Chosen's cheek. Amrys was carried closer. 

"Harry, your ease is near. I have found you what you need." Lucius' voice was the most loving and adoring that Severus had heard from any man to his beloved. It choked his own voice in his throat. He looked at Amrys, he wanted to be the one that soothed his lover's needs. Not standing here, seeing the unnatural hunger, and lust, and having to stand aside, and not answer it, not ease it.

Lucius stripped the remants of Harry's clothing from the thrashing body. The king's face was a rictus of suffering. His pale eyes glacial. 

Graeme fought to control his own reaction. This was a thing, the coming together of second and Chosen, that should be done in joy. Not forced. His heart bled.


	96. Chapter 96

Chapter 96

 

Amrys fought them as they brought him nearer the furs. He struggled to get free, intent on getting to the thrashing young man on the bed. He roared, heaving his two restrainers up off the floor in an impressive show of strength. Veins, standing out like bulging cords on his forehead and along his neck, all the way to his chest and wrists.

Graeme held on grimly. Jonas never flinched, the flex of his large muscles attesting to the second's power as they grappled, his concern transmitted well through the places he and Graeme touched in their combined hold on Amrys. The blond were-leopard hissed warningly when he was not able to leap towards his goal, when they controlled his approach. The creak of extending claws was like knives piercing leather. He craned his neck suddenly, taking a strike that only just missed, wanting to sink his fangs in what ever vulnerable flesh was near.

"You will not let his arms free. He must not harm Harry." Lucius said to the men, as he arranged the clinging Harry on the furs next to him. Amrys fought, no recognition of his king, or the king's Chosen showing in his expression. His head was up, nose lifted, he was drawing in gulping breaths. He heaved up again lifting both Graeme and Jonas off of the floor again for an instant before he let them crash back down.

"Stop. He can not be controlled like this." Lucius said, in the same moment Snape stepped closer.

"Stop." Snape repeated, outwardly cool and practical. "The madness doesn't allow him to know who it is he is fixated on. The magic is not kind and gentle, it is sharp edged. The perpetrator means this to be violent, hard and fast. He has not let there be any room for else." Snape said, keeping his tone unemotional, though he wanted to scream his outrage that anyone would dare to do this to his Amrys. He swallowed hard.

"Yes. I agree. Shall we knock him out? Will time alleviate his need? Harry's?" The king asked as he watched the two struggles going on. Snape shook his head. "Will the spell fade on it's own?"

"No, time will only increase the drive and the madness. Lucius." Snape said, his voice becoming rusty with emotion despite his attempts to control it, lacking it's usual rich, smoothness. He cleared his throat and tried again. "In this state he will unintentionally injure Potter. Allow me to try to give him a release before he goes to him." The wizard's voice was subdued. He flushed red, his normally pale face lit with his blush. He wished for privacy, but it was not to be. Amrys was hurting. That he could not permit, not when he could ease it.

"Very well. Kaithas, come stand close. Watch. I would not have you hurt either, wizard." Lucius gave his blessing. He turned back to Harry, who's agitation was only growing worse. He crooned to the youth, and once again put his hand down, knowing what was to come, and not wanting to take any chances. His oiled fingers slipped into the body of the young man he held.

Patiently, Lucius slid his fingers in deep, caressing the flesh, relaxing Harry as much as he could, and Harry immediately responded with a shaky cry and a second ejaculation. There was no lessening of his erection. His eyes were screwed tightly shut. 

Sweat dewed Harry's face and body, his pale skin like ivory, polished, and slick. Lucius let his fingers remain where they were, willing the young man to relax, but Harry's body never eased, his arousal, never lessened. He groaned. Lucius leaned down, kissed him, and Harry turned his head away, arching his hips up and down, not wanting tenderness, wanting sex, wild and hard, and dirty, more penetration, more force.

Severus' hands were careful, as he placed them on the other man's hips. Graeme and the big guardian holding Amrys strained as Amrys' entire body surged forward into that tentative touch. Amrys let out a sound that was pure animal, urgent and feral. They heaved him up onto the bed and atop the furs next to the king and Harry. 

Severus Snape sank to his knees on the furs between the legs of the man he was coming to realize he had fallen so deeply in love with. Graeme and the massive guardian were one to each side of Amrys, holding him down, restricting his arms, and the lethal claws at the ends of them. 

Snape blanked his mind to the many others in the room, all of whom watched with worry and concern, as he bent down, Amrys' meaty thighs one to each side of his own, clothed hips. No foreplay today the wizard thought bitterly, Amrys was already set to burst. This was still Amrys, still the one he wanted, he was hurting, and Severus was going to give him release. Snape wasted no time, taking the long, golden brown erection now filled full of congested blood, colored to purpled hues, pulsing with each beat of the leopard's great heart, into his mouth.

Amrys screamed. Long and harsh, a tearing sound and he released, arching forward, into Severus' throat, as the man fought to swallow it all, thick, hot wetness, filling his mouth his throat, bubbling out and over his chin. He drew back, swiped a hand over his face. It came back wet, he wiped again and again. 

Gently someone took his hand, pulled it away, pulled him away and a tongue licked his face. Not erotically, but gently, caring. Helping him clean his face, recognizing his distress, and knowing that the fluids of Snape's lover should be treated with respect despite this horrifying situation. Kaithas helped him to a corner of the bed, lapped at his face, warm, tender. The tenderness was his undoing. Severus began to cry.

Next to them, Harry howled, pain and need and terror in the sound. He strained towards the pride's second. Fighting Lucius' hands, scratching long furrows into the king's arms and blood dripped. Lucius captured the flailing hands, held them prevented further injury to himself.

He shared a look with his third. Graeme guided Amrys, his friend whose suffering was great, to Harry. Harry immediately tried to arch up into the sweat drenched body. Whimpering, filled with the need to meet the hunger he felt radiating off the second. Amrys did not know who was beneath him, he only knew his burning lust, his throbbing need. He lunged. Snarling and spitting, Graeme and Jonas held his hands behind him, so he would not tear and rend Harry. 

Harry opened, to the man over him, wrapped his legs around him, hissed his emptiness, begged to be filled. Amrys, growled. Lucius felt the lump in his throat grow, an aching, squeezing, as all that was dear to the pride was violated, twisted, and turned. 

Amrys slid into Harry. They moved as if they were meant to fit so perfectly, yet the feel was not sweet and tender, it was a ravenous feeding. So very wrong. Lucius felt tears cascade down his cheeks as he watched. Amrys screamed, hoarse, tortured. Grinding without finesse, trying to find surcease to the rending pain. And failing. It grew, and grew.

Lucius, desperate, thrust his bloodied arm into his second's mouth. Amrys fell on the blood, chewing and lapping at it, finding a slight ease in the familiar taste, and scent of his dear friend. Of his king. The power in the king's blood eased the crushing pain in his chest, he drew in a breath, fought to regain sanity......He slid out of Harry, and the madness flooded back. He howled his agony. Once more clawing, his hands restrained, ripping this time into the furs, tearing away tufts of fur.

Harry one more time wrapped his body around Amrys, guided the man into his body purely by instinct. They moved together. Harsh, jerky at first, then smoother and smoother. Frantically fast. Panting. Moaning, hurting. Lucius Malfoy looked up and into the eyes of the wizard huddled in his seer's arms. The horror in those pale eyes, the terror in the strong man's face was the last push Severus needed. He straightened.

Severus Snape had had enough. He dashed his arm across his face. He'd cried. A thing he just didn't ever do. This time he had plenty of reason. But crying, and the catharsis it brought, was not what was needed now. 

Now.... 

Snape pulled his wand from one of the deep pockets in his robes. His grip would have broken a less durable wand than his own. His tendons creaked. His jaw clenched, and pure crystalline outrage filled him.

He needed.... 

He raised his arm and concentrated. Collecting his indomitable will, as he pictured the one who had sent this abomination, who had meant to hurt the man he loved, and a boy he cared for deeply.

To fight.... 

He spoke the words of the counter spell and felt the wild, gathering of energy as he pulled it all together into a ball of seething discontent and negativity, growing and growing, until he had it all, every scrap of the hated and hateful spell.

Back...

He hissed the spell to send each sparkling, malignant, inkling of horror back on the one who really deserved it. The air snapped, burst and flashed, and the spell shot back to its originator.


	97. Chapter 97

Chapter 97

 

The thick, yellow, miasmic fog began to clear. It's choking drifts thinned. He came up from the depths. He started to realize where he was, what was happening. He ached all over, his face, his arms, his chest, his legs, his pelvis, everywhere. 

There was weight on top of him. Panic tightened his throat. He almost struck out when the odor hit him full force. Pain scent, fear, mourning, sadness, sex, hatred. It was enough to suffocate someone. It gave him pause. The man on top of him, slumped over, still hard, inside of his body...it was Amrys?

Amrys. How had that happened? A flash of distant recall. Then he remembered, like a film, like a mirror of truth, he saw what had happened. The scent of dear, sweet, kind love, the scent of Draco, Yaji and Mantheer, passion, adoration. Good, clean scent...then.....

Something different. Something dark, sinister, malignant. Something crafted only to cause harm. Something that rode on the pure smell of love and happiness, of honest caring desire, but carried none of that purity. Something foul that twisted everything.

Something that twisted his own desire into a frenzy of darkness, of lust that would not ease. Harry shuddered, crawling up from that frightening pit. And he saw what he had done while caught up in the...spell. He saw the way he'd burned, and the way he had not found any relief. He had scratched his love, deep, hurtful, he had demanded more and more and more. He had not been able to stop, driven right over the edge, seeking pain, and sex and more pain.

It was so not him, that Harry did not find it possible to blame himself...or the man sobbing on top of him. Amrys was waking from his own nightmare. And crying for the harm he had caused. Amrys. Who was good, strong and kind, and did not deserve to take the blame for any of this. Amrys who needed to be told he was forgiven, that the harm was not his, that all would heal and be OK.

Harry raised his arms. Folded them around the shaking were-leopard. "Peace." He said.

######

Dumbledore was caught by surprise, bending down over his desk when the pain struck. In a place that had only ever given him pleasure. He straightened up with a snap. He was erect, achingly, painfully erect. Not an erect that promised enjoyment, not an erect that might prompt him to take out his spy-glass and look for sweet young flesh to ease it. No, this was not anything like that. He wanted this to go away. Now. 

Dumbledore groped over to a chair and sank down into it. He cupped his swollen genitals and moaned. He could not credit this sudden agony! He could not bear it. He reached for his wand, tried a comfort spell. Then he tried a healing spell. Then a numbing spell. Then a spell to shrink. Nothing helped. He moaned again.

He would not panic. Staggering to his feet he headed out to the infirmary. To Madame Pomfrey and her cures. She would be able to help him. He was sure of it. He only rarely had needed her cures, but they had never failed him.

The short walk was nothing less than a living, burning hell. He shuffled his feet, because to lift them off the floor, was unbearable, knives piercing into him. Merlin! He felt now, as if he would never, ever want sex, or an erection again. Never. In fact the idea of sex....he bent over and vomited all over his shoes, and the sweeping hem of his robes. The floor rose up to meet him.

^^^^^

Amrys woke. His mind going from confusion to clarity in the space of seconds. Oh, god. What had he done? He had raped.....the Chosen. Harry. He had raped Harry. His howl split the air. 

Then arms. Warm, loving, forgiving. He smelled it. No more darkness, it was burned away. He smelled the smell of the pride. Of forgivenessss, of acceptance, of love. For him. He smelled his king. He smelled Harry. He smelled Graeme, Jonas and Kaithas. All of them. And. He smelled the one he loved. He smell anger, fury really, and...he smelled that Severus....loved... him.

Harry's hands were stroking him. Harry's body was warm around him, enveloping him. Amrys felt his erection ease, slipping out of the Chosen's body. Harry let out a sigh. He turned his head, and kissed the damp brow of the golden leopard. "Peace." He said, his tenor voice holding forgiveness, and love, and the sound of the pride. Amrys was of the pride. He was not cast out. He was pride. He was pride. They held him.

Stronger arms held him. The arms of the king, long and strong and sheltering. Of Graeme, his friend. He felt the tears falling from them onto his face as they eased him into comfort. They petted him, licked him, cuddled him. Lucius pressed his head to his chest. Offered him sanctuary. Harry, did not flee from him in horror. The Chosen snuggled up, to him, lay his head on Amrys' shoulder, and let out a long sigh. "Peace." He said again. And the voice gave Amrys that. Peace.

*******

Dumbledore woke in the infirmary, with Poppy bustling around. She approached his bed just as he realized the agony was not gone. He bent his knees and groaned, holding his throbbing, bursting penis. He shook his head in negation. It could not be. Why had he not been healed?

"Albus. I can see that you are not feeling well, not any better. I am sorry." She leaned down over him. He kindly face full of concern. She watched him, her eyes very sharp.

"What is wrong with me?" He hissed out between his clenched teeth. He barely held back a groan, barely kept from begging her to help him.

"You have an erection and it is causing you pain because it is not going down." She told the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "I am certain that it was caused by a spell. I haven't been able to break the curse."

He fought not to snap at her. He knew that. He had felt it, right before he passed out when he vomited after thinking of sex....The gorge rose again, immediate, and harsh. He flung himself over to the side of the bed and vomited over the edge.

It took him several gut wrenching minutes before he fell back onto the bed, sweat drenched. Poppy handed him a wet cloth. He mopped his face and brow. Merlin. The very idea of sex made him ill...his stomach heaved again. He forced it down.

"Yes. How can it be healed?" He gasped at last, exhausted, pained. He lowered the cloth and pressed it to his burning crotch. It almost helped. Almost.

"Well. That is the catch I am afraid. There is no way. I am afraid you will merely have to wait." The medi-witch said.

Wait! he could not! "The pain. Can you take away the pain?" He begged.

She shook her head. "No. I have tried everything. Nothing has been effective. I am sorry, Albus." But her eyes....his brow furrowed. They glittered strangely.

"How long?" He gritted out. This was not bearable.

"A day, a week, perhaps two weeks at most. Until it falls off." Poppy said, her voice low and sweetly sympathetic. "The pain will go away once your penis has fallen off."

Dumbledore stared at her in disbelief. "There must be something you can do! I can't be emasculated!"

Poppy leaned in even closer. Her face changed, became narrower, tighter, feral, hate filled. "Did you know you talk in your sleep, Albus? While you tossed and turned. you gave a most amazing confession." She was mere inches from him, he tried to shrink back into the piled pillows. Trying to fathom what would make the efficient, kindly healer behave in this odd manner. They had always gotten on so well.

"You filthy, horrible man. I know." She snarled at him. "I KNOW. Everything you have done, every foul thing you have made these children suffer. I KNOW. It *is* going to rot off, Albus. I am sure it will." And she stalked off.

&&&&&&&&

And at last. The voice. Velvet rich. Caressing. Amrys had heard it raised in wordless passion. He'd heard it in snarky impatience. He'd heard it take charge. He'd heard it kind, soothing. Now he heard it filled with love. He heard Severus, saying his name. He heard Severus. 

Then he reached out. And he held him. His love. His Severus. And Amrys, at last felt the full peace Harry spoke of.


	98. Chapter 98

Chapter 98

 

Chink! 

A yelp followed the small sound that rang out in the Quidditch Team changing room. 

Blaise turned to look, seeing young Hans Grimwold, following in the tradition Potter had started, a very young Seeker, clutching his foot and hopping up and down. The boy was bare, as expected for being on his way to the showers after a hard-played match. He extended his bruised toes and wiggled them experimentally.

"What's up with you? You all right, Hansie?" Blaise inquired. Looking over the wriggling toes himself. Then his gaze was diverted to something else.

Something shiny and round was rolling in circles on the floor, round and round and round in an ever narrowing trajectory. It hit a bump and rolled right to Blaise's own bare feet. Bending down he picked it up, turning it over in his nimble finger's examining it. Huh?!

"What are you doing with a spy-glass, Hansie?" Blaise looked at the younger boy. Who looked completely blank. Blaise decided the puzzlement was honest, not feigned. Hans had no idea what the glass was.

"I am not!" The boy complained. "It fell on my foot. Right out of the air onto my toes." He exclaimed, offended, as if the object had done it deliberately.

Blaise raised a skeptical brow. Pushed, just to be sure. "If they find out we had it in here, we'll be accused of spying on the other teams."

"It is not mine." Hans insisted. He wriggled his toes again. Seemed satisfied he was going to survive. "I don't even know what it is exactly...what is it?"

"It is a spy-glass. Not something to play around with. Where did it come from then?" Blaise wondered out loud. Then he shrugged. He had the perfect solution. There was a very easy way to find out. He would take it to Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin House.

"Here. It fell off the wall right there." Hans pointed out the spot indignantly. He hung back as if he expected other bad things to come from the location.

Blaise looked at the spot. His eyes narrowed. He turned and looked one way, back over his shoulder. The spot would show the lockers, all of them. He turned and looked the other way. And the showers. Not the meeting room. Where the players would all be clothed. A chill ran up his back. It had been right about hip height. Blaise was not stupid, nor naive. Someone had been peeping. Someone connected to Hogwarts, 'cause no one else could get in here to put the spy-glass up. He felt rage and disgust building inside of his stomach in a sickening wave. Some perv was peeping at *kids*. He was one of the oldest, in his last year, but there were real *kids* here. 

It seemed Hans was not stupid either. The twelve year old's brows raised towards his curly blond hairline. "Ooooooo." He said. Eyes gone huge, with shocked and outraged innocence. "Oh. Someone's been...." He gulped, hands going to cover his privates.

"Too late for that." Blaise said dryly. "I think it safe to say, we've likely got nothing left to hide. None of us."

"Oooo." Hans said, again, cheeks gone blazing red in his pale, blond complected face. "Momsy is going to be really angry." He whispered.

It took a minute for Blaise to realize that Hans had spoken rightly using the words he had. Just long enough for him to recall just who Hans' mother was. Hans' mother was an Auror for the Ministry of Magic. Actually *the* head trainer of all Aurors. "Battling Bertha". Not the best person to tell that her son was being oogled while naked in a school changing room. She *would* be pissed. Not as in irritated, not as in a bit perturbed. Not as in unhappy. She was going to be PISSED.

OOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chink! 

The were-cats on the bed all alerted, heads raised, turned towards the unexpected noise, ears up, forward, all flashing to triangular kitty ears to better pick up and track the tiny sound. Their slit pupil-ed eyes snapped into focus on the globe that was rolling irregularly over the stone tiled floor. Graeme was up and off the bed first, Amrys right behind him, scooping the sphere up into his palm. He'd never seen the like of it. A ray of light was caught in its depths, refracting into a rainbow across his chest and arm.

"Bring it to me." Snape's voice cut crisply in to Graeme's puzzlement. His tone told the were-leopard that Snape, at least, knew just what this mysterious thing was. He returned to the very full bed, where Lucius had automatically covered Harry with his own body to protect him and dropped the tiny sphere into the wizard's cupped palm. Lucius sat up, peering at the object in Snape's hand.

Harry moved closer to his former teacher, as the realization of what Snape now held occurred to him. "A spy-glass!" He exclaimed. "What is it doing here?" 

Snape shot him a look. "I should think that was obvious, Mr. Potter." He replied without heat. He gave a grimace. "I am afraid that it is quite possible the last few hours have been less than private."

Harry's face flamed. He had been in great need of comfort. Cuddling had only provided so much of what he needed. So Lucius, despite the crowded bed, had gently given him what he asked for. Sweetly making love to him, as Graeme had held Harry, stroking his raven curls, kissing him. 

Now, Snape was telling him....someone else may have witnessed it all. Someone not belonging to the pride. A stranger. And Harry blushed to his roots. The older leopards had a very different reaction. Kaithas patted his shoulder, reassuringly. Amrys, Graeme and Lucius snarled.

"Who has violated our privacy?" Amrys asked darkly, his mood only partly recovered from his reaction to being driven to sexually assault Harry. Where normally he would be the most even tempered of men, he was ready to rend and tear. He wanted to damage whoever had violated them again by spying on their most intimate moments.

Lucius sat stiffly, his face thunderous. The pride was still being attacked. It was not acceptable. His people were being harmed, their lives exposed. "Can you give us a name? I would like to pay them a visit, to...express my...displeasure...with this...." He rumbled, deep in his chest, his voice holding a threatening growl. He pulled Harry nearer, as if to shield the Chosen after the fact. Tucking the youth into his arms and showing his bristling teeth. Harry himself, once the blush had faded, was feeling outraged. He growled unhappily.

Severus pulled out his wand and waved it over the small artifact. The glass shone brighter. Pulsing. Then the light faded with a "whoooomp". Snape instantly threw the sphere away from them all as hard as he could. It flew into the stone fireplace and exploded into a thousand sharp, cutting shards, flames spitting out in long tongues of angry blue and red. They all ducked, until the conflagration had died down. 

Snape was shaking his hand. Amrys grabbed it, gently unfolding the long, supple fingers to expose the circular burn. His anger rose higher. He carefully licked the singed skin. Soothing the sharp pain with his healing saliva. He hated that Snape did not have the same healing powers as a lycanthrope. He worried that his love would be harmed, and not be able to recover. Amrys resolved to speak to Lucius at his next opportunity. Severus should be offered the chance to be of the pride. He had defended them all. He had cared for Draco and his children. For all intents and purposes, Snape was pride already. If he wished it, they owed him a chance to become a were-leopard in truth.

"No. I am afraid the device was booby-trapped. I can not tell who has sent it to spy." Severus Snape's dissatisfaction was abundantly clear. He was furious that Amrys and Harry had been attacked. His desire for revenge was palpable.

Harry mumbled something from his position wedged tightly against the king's chest and under the powerful arm. Snape raised his brows. Harry fidgeted, so he wasn't quite so tightly mashed. "The same one who spelled me and Amrys." He said, confidently.

"Safe to say, yes." Snape replied. "It had the same feel, the same signature. I only wish I had been able to track it." He ground his teeth in frustration. Then leaped in place as if stung. He pulled a flat scrying disc out of his deep pocket and glanced at it. He recognized the face in the disc.

"Yes, Mr. Zabini?" Snape inquired, all trace of upset gone from his smooth, rich, melted-chocolate voice. "How may I help you?"

Blaise held up the small sphere so that Professor Snape could see it. He opened his mouth. "We found this in the locker room...." He began, only to have Snape cut him off, urgently.

"Put it down at once." And such was the influence he had over his House, Blaise obeyed without question or demand for explanation. He gingerly set it onto the floor tiles, backing swiftly away. "Are you alone?" Snape persisted.

"No, professor. I am not alone. There are a few of us still here..." Blaise answered, the hair at the back of his neck raising. "I think someone was peeping at us...."

"Yes." Snape agreed. "All of you will leave the room, immediately. Place a lock-spell on the door to that room, your *best* lock-spell, Mr. Zabini. Return to Slytherin House. Do not speak of it to anyone. I will be there in moments. Move, Mr. Zabini, time is critical, the object is more dangerous than you think."

He swung his long legs out of the bed as the scrying-disc winked out, restoring it into his pocket. Amrys followed, his face set. And Graeme, Harry, Lucius were less than a step behind, heading out of the room at a run. 

Kaithas was left alone on the bed, blinking.


	99. Chapter 99

Chapter 99

 

Severus Snape was not in any mood to be trifled with. He had muttered a spell at the Quidditch changing rooms to assure no one would be going in, threw a handkechief over the sphere, then he rushed to Slytherin House to check on the well-being of his charges.

The ruling three of the were-leopards were in no better mood. They, along with a stubborn and determined not to be left behind Harry, had accompanied Snape to Hogwarts. All had been surprised, unpleasantly, to see Blaise Zabini was at Hogwarts when Snape's scrying disc had alerted. He had disobeyed Amrys' edict to stay away from the school until all the conflicts were resolved. While being grateful the youngling was safe, the ruling three were still angry, and Blaise was going to be in for a few uncomfortable moments when they caught up with him.

Blaise had always been a great fan of the game of Quidditch. When he made the team in his second year, he was estatic. Now he was in his last year, and he was not about to miss out on his last few games. He had not even told the other kittens that he was going to Hogwarts. Another sign that made Graeme growl under his breath. Blaise had known he was doing wrong. And he had done it anyway. The kitten was going to get his ears boxed, soundly.

In order not to cause any undue alarm, Severus Snape took a moment to slip into his normal attire, intending to appear as familiar to the children as possible. Amrys and the rest of the weres stood to one side watching the transformation with unconcealed fascination, heads tilted, slit pupiled eyes watching the quick, well practiced actions as Severus stripped, then re-clothed himself. They were all in full animal form, their best battling forms, the most lethal.

The soft, flowingly loose robes of the pride were replaced with severely tailored and *uncomfortable* looking garments. Amrys stroked a paw down the wool coat and frowned, even in cat form, it was obviously a frown. It was not the soft fabric he preferred to have against the skin of his Snape. The clothes changed him from the pliable lover Amrys had recently enjoyed, to the starched and correct instructor and dedicated protector of his students.

The Slytherins were gathered in the common room, huddled around the gigantic fireplace, well aware, down to the youngest, that something serious was going on. A thing they should be concerned with. The awareness of danger fairly crackled through the air. They were astute children, crafty and observant for the most part, not naive at all. The continual politicking by their parents while they grew up, ensured that. They took nothing at face value. 

In the front of the group, head down, eyes reluctant to meet the eyes of the the leading were-leopards, was Blaise Zabini, the wayward kitten of the pride. Next to him was a much shorter boy, a year younger, small and compact, who watched the leopards with blazing attention. He crowded close to Zabini, as if trying to shield him.

Lucius Malfoy, magnificent and furry, padded up to the teen leopard's side, matching step to step with Severus Snape. Behind him were the furry forms of Harry, Graham and the magnificent, golden Amrys. All three strutting with regal, purely feline self-possession as they entered the room. The dozens of children's eyes widened watching the parade of huge leopards enter the room and take it over.

Blaise lowered his gaze, his body quivering, as his king approached. Lucius brushed against the youth, his fur sliding in a silken wave along the youth's side. He nosed Blaise away from the rest of the kids. Blaise shivered. Graeme was next, crowding close, a resplendent, coppery furred giant, his face lifted to rub along the dark haired boy's neck and shoulder. He purred, a deep rumble. Amrys inched closer, wedging himself between Lucius and the third, to butt his head into Blaise's chest. Harry was the last of the leopards to nuzzle his way into the group of intertwined were-leopards. He gave his fellow kitten a quick lick then withdrew, leaving the older three to their exploration of Blaise. They all examined him carefully, assuring themselves he was not harmed.

Snape watched with some trepidation, wondering just how the Slytherins would do with their sudden introduction to pride facts of life. Blaise was one of the most admired members of Slytherin House. Severus watched very closely for any sign of unrest, or threat to the were-leopards. Slytherins, thought by the other houses to be crafty and untrustworthy, were actually fantastically loyal. If Blaise was perceived to be at risk of serious harm, they would attack the feared and unknown to save him. Snape saw a number of small hands clenched around ready wands, still buried in the pockets of their robes.

Lucius, Graeme and Amrys had all startled unhappily when Blaise had appeared on Snape's scrying disc. Snape however had not been too surpirsed. Blaise was not supposed to be at Hogwarts. Rather, he was supposed to be at the Manor, safely curled up with the other kittens, and with the pride, under the protective watch of the adult leopards. Lucius had plans to scold the youngling thoroughly for sneaking out to play his favorite game of Quidditch, despite the risk to his own safety. But, for now, they were bonding, happy he was not injured. 

Certain Blaise was uninjured, Lucius let out a commanding rowl, knocking the young man to the floor, onto his back, placing his dinner-plate sized paws on his youngling's shoulders Blaise did not resist, toppling over, laying still. Lucius lowered his body to rest on his wayward leopard's body, almost large enough to completely conceal Blaise from the rest of the students. That caused a ripple of alarm to move thorugh the gathered throng of young wizards and witches. They inched forward, cautiously, more hands on more concealed wands. Snape raised a hand and they stopped. Eyes fastened on his face.

One young man, the one who had been standing next to Blaise when they first entered the room, a brown haired, with oddly, sunset colored eyes, and rather short stature, let out a noise of distress, trying to go to Blaise's side, struggling in the restraining arms of his Housemates. Graeme glowered at him, interposing his body between the youth and the were-king. Lucius growled, louder and more commanding this time. The air shimmered, and Blaise went from tall, slim youth, to a deep, dark brown/black haired cat,with sparkling brown eyes. The room filled with stunned "eeps".

The collective group of Slytherins let out a gasp. Shrinking into a tighter mass, clutching at one another. Most had never seen a lycanthrope, let alone four. Besides, weren't they supposed to be were-*wolves*? Who ever heard of were-*cats*? Lycanthropes were so secretive, so reclusive, there still remained a number in the wizarding world who did not believe that any were-animals actually existed. Thought they were a legend or a myth. A fantasy. The brown young man who had tried to reach Blaise, let out a cry, and fought harder, as Lucius growled louder.

Blaise turned over an went to his belly under his king. Lucius moved over him, covering him again, sinking careful fangs into his nape. The brown boy let out a yell, and pushed at the hands holding him. Graeme snarled, showing his fearsome fangs. There was a ringing gasp of horror. Snape stepped closer, not willing to let the young man fear for Blaise without offering reassurance.

"Mr. Alexander." Snape called out, tone uncharacteristically soft while remaining firm. "Cease your struggles. They are not necessary. Mr. Zabini will not be harmed. He has defied his king's orders, partly, I am assuming in order to see you."

Charles "Peach" Alexander lifted worried eyes to his Head of House's face, looking for the information he had to have, information he might believe, that Blaise, his dearest friend, was going to be safe. His blush confirmed that Blaise had indeed disobeyed Amrys, partly to see him.

Lucius, satisfied with Blaise's submission, raised himself up off of his kitten, and stalked a few feet away, resting there on his haunches, and observing. Graeme flashed to human form, grabbing the kitten by the scruff and shaking him firmly, raising the cat's face to bring the dark eyes to meet his own. Blaise went marshmallow-soft in the grip.

"I was under the impression you were aware of the prohibition our second sent down to every student from the pride? That all the lycanthrope groups have agreed that their students would not yet return to Hogwarts." Graeme half asked, half told the limp, docile, young leopard. He shook him again. Blaise's eyes rolled down to the floor then back to Graeme. He remained still, unresisting.

"No! Stop it!" Came the cry from the young man that Snape had called Mr. Alexander. He fumbled for his wand. Determined to defend his friend. Severus stepped forward. His own wand ready.

"Mr. Alexander. Do not raise your wand!" He said, sternly. The wild eyes that met his were not comforting, nor reassuring. He needed to get the youth closer, where he could prevent a disaster. He resorted to something he almost never did, he used a student's nickname. "Peach! This is a private matter. Restrain yourself." It startled all the Slytherins for a moment.

"You can't let them do that to him!" The youth exclaimed, after a beat of silence. "You can't!" His jaw set firmly, and he glared at his professor, defiant, though he was trembling. "I won't let them." He said, angrily. Amrys growled and moved to place himself between the young wizard and Graeme, where the third was bending over Blaise. Harry had gone to lay down in front of Lucius. The lazy relaxed pose a sham, he was ready to leap up in an instant.

"Mr. Zabini is not being harmed. He is, quite obviously, a lycanthrope, and he has broken a rule set by one of the dominant members of his pride. He is in need of discipline. That is all this is. Discipline. There is no need for your concern, admirable though it is in the face of such odds." Snape said soothingly, firmly.

"No." Peach shook his head violently. "No."

"Come here." Snape waited, and once Peach was at his side, he clamped a strong hand on the slender shoulder, felt the tremors the youth was barely controlling. Merlin! He was smaller even than Potter! The rest of you, return to your rooms." He ordered. And reluctantly they left the room. Trailing more slowly, looking over their shoulders. The existence of lycanthropes was going to be confimed all over the wizarding world by tomorrow. Snape was sure of it.


	100. Chapter 100

Chapter 100

 

Graeme stroked the soft, dark fur of the kitten. He wanted to punish the kitten, here and now, he wanted to give him a good bat to the head, knock some sense into him. But, Blaise lay unresisting, anything but defiant, his dark brown eyes locked onto Graeme's deep blue ones, submitting completely. And Graeme could not smack him like this, not now. Not even for putting himself at risk and scaring all of them. He nuzzled his face deep into Blaise's ruff and held him close. He was safe. Naughty, disobedient, but safe. For now that was enough. Later, well they'd see about later.

Peach squirmed in Snape's grip, obviously still upset by what was going on in front of him between Graeme and Blaise. Why was Blaise, energetic, athletic, strong, just laying there, not fighting back, or defending himself? Was he hurt, had they hurt him, done something to him that Peach had missed? He wanted, needed, to find out. He tried to get free. Snape tightened his grip.

"Steady, Mr. Alexander. If you plan on knowing Blaise better you should see this. This is part of what he is, beyond being a student at Hogwarts, beyond being a student of wizardry and witchcraft. He is a lycanthrope, and this is how they do things." Snape's warm voice flowed over the boy's skin, soothing and calming. He patted Peach's stiff shoulder.

Harry sat up, shook himself, and flashed to human shape. Peach let out a squeak. "Potter! What are you doing here?" Seeming truly upset to find a Gryffindor in the enclave of the Slytherins.

"I am a were-leopard." Harry said. "Blaise is one of my pride." He came closer. His human form more graceful now than Peach recalled from the last time he'd seen Potter, the way he moved was less uncertain, his gangly form gone, now he was fluid, supple, compelling.

"But, you are a Gryffindor!" Peach burst out. As if that meant Harry could not be here, now, and a lycanthrope, too. As if it were a betrayal.

"That does not stop us belonging to the same pride," Harry told him. "Don't worry, Alexander. This is normal. I've gone through it myself. And I am fine." Peach looked less than convinced.

"Converse while we walk." Snape said, crisply, herding the two youths out into the hall after the regal cat that was Lucius Malfoy. "I don't like to leave the spy-glass unattended for too long. It is time to get back to the Quidditch rooms and see what we can discover. You may accompany us, Mr. Alexander, if I can have your word not to interfere. Interference may prove a serious problem for us all. Perhaps a deadly one."

"Yes, sir." Peach, not about to be left behind, nodded his agreement, resisting the childish urge to cross his fingers behind his back. Then he went with the unlikely group, rushing to keep up with them. His eyes never leaving the back of the subdued were-leopard walking with Graeme's fingers knotted in his fur. Blaise. Oh, Blaise.

Blaise was beautiful like this, Peach thought. Shining coat, muscles rippling under it. The way he moved, like flowing power, Peach wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around his friend, burrow into the warm, silken fur. Be close. He fought the blush that rose unbidden to his face. Damn! He was always so obvious! They had never talked about this. About being friends...and someday, more than friends, Peach hoped. Ghod, he hoped so.

^^^^^^^^^

The sphere lay exactly where they left it, in the middle of the floor of the changing room, covered by a starched, white handkerchief. Snape strode into the room, Harry right behind him. The other cats following, Peach still held firmly against Snape's side, secured against any youthful impulses or heorics. Inside the room Severus let go of the boy, Amrys came to stand near the youthful wizard. Peach looked askance at the large, gold furred leopard, prepared for anything from the great beast. He was holding onto his wand so tightly it was in serious danger of snapping in two. But the massive cat made no hostile moves, just watched him with deceptively peaceful, lazy gold-brown eyes.

"Mr. Potter, with me please." Snape said, briskly, approaching the spy-glass. "A containment spell, first, I think." Harry left Lucius' side and stepped forward. The room suddenly crackled with spine-tingling force, a rush of light and sound. Peach sucked in an astonished breath.

Harry pulled out his wand and flicked it in a perfect, iridescent green circle. The light settled over the sphere and kerchief without a ripple, Snape's wand guiding the strong barrier that Harry's vast power had created. It wavered and wove, and grew smaller and smaller, squeezing, choking down, until it coated the sphere, no space between the spell and the object, tightly, impossibly contained. The kerchief burst into flame as the ball hopped up into the air, struggling as if it were alive, skittering wildly, seeking freedom. Freedom impossible to find within the spell trapping it. Who ever cast the spy-glass originally, had not been as strong as the boy-who-lived. 

Snape felt a smile, a cruelly satisfied one, spread across his face. "We have you, you bastard." He muttered. It would take time, yes, but whoever had been the master of the glass was as good as caught. With time and effort, he would be revealed. And Snape would make him pay.

^^^^^^^^^

Poppy Pomfrey jumped nearly a foot in the air and three feet backwards when Professor Dumbledore turned a bright, glowing green. She had been changing the sheets, no matter how odious the man was, she couldn't leave him in soiled, damp sheets! When all of a sudden he was green. Less than an instant from normal to shimmering, unnatural, vibrant, neon green. PFFOOOOFFF! A sulfurous odar filled the air. She clamped a hand over her nose and mouth as the rotten egg smell filled the small infirmary. Yeccch.

She pressed her second hand to her chest. More magic. More mystery. Her clever, sharp eyes narrowed. Perhaps...someone....an accomplice, was trying to help the Headmaster escape! Her lips compressed into a firm disapproving line. That was not going to be allowed! Albus Dumbledore was not going to escape, and be permitted to spy, rape and prey on children again! Not if Madame Poppy Pomfrey had anything to say about it.

She spun on the heel of her half boot, and headed for her fireplace. A quick call to St. Mungos was in order. Let his helper try to get him out of there! That place was spelled and charmed and cursed with every kind of security known. And it was too late for anyone to heal him by now. He wasn't ever going to be the man he once was. 

Poppy knew just who to ask for advice. She allowed herself a smile as she dialed out for her good friend, Bertha Grimwold. The Auror would know what to do. Bertha was rarely at a loss. Her first concern would be for her son though, so to expedite things, Poppy sent for a house elf to find the child.

"Zinny! I need you to go to Slytherin house and fetch young Hansie here." Madame Pomfrey told the skinny creature who colored a darker pink at the pleasure of doing something for his very kind Mistress. He scurried off. And, satified, Poppy made her call.

^^^^^^^^^

The vibrating sphere rose into the air, the were-leopards backed off, ears flattened to their large skulls, wary of the thing. Snape guided the deadly orb with deft flicks of his wand. It floated out of the door and they trailed after it. Now they would find out who was responsible. And extract an appropriate penalty.

Peach, seeing how everyone's attention was on the green ball, took a chance and sidled up to Blaise's side. Hesitantly he let a finger touch, just barely, the so, so soft fur. Oooohhhh. It was so wonderfully soft, so thick, plush. Blaise turned to look at him, sensing the delicate contact. Peach's eyes were rapt, shining, as the large young feline looked at him. Peach could hardly breathe, his lips parted, tongue flicking out to nervously lick them. His hand rose again, unbidden to tremble over the exquisite fur, Blaise waited, letting him. 

Peach let his whole palm settle into the brown/black fur, sinking in. Blaise let out a quiet purrrrr. And Peach thought he might have fainted, if there had not been a sudden, loud yell, he might have done so out of sheer astonishment and joy. He whirled just in time to see Professor Snape flying through the air, coat flapping, after the brilliant green orb. Harry Potter was clinging grimly to one of the Professor's legs, dragged along as if they were both weightless, several feet off of the ground.

The were-leopards acted instantly, springing after the two men who were whisked along at a breakneck pace. Blaise made an urgent noise and butted up to Peach, literally scooping him up, and onto the broad back. Peach yipped nervously, but clung tightly with hands and legs and even teeth as he found he had a mouthfull of fur, wishing he had more fingers on his feet instead of toes, so he could hold on even tighter, as Blaise took off after the rapidly disappearing group.

The muscles flexed and extended fluidly under him, Peach was astounded at the raw power and absolute *perfection* of the cat running under him. Blaise, an exceptional human athlete, was something far, far more in his feline form. He was pure artistry, beauty, strength, liquid agility. Every move was sure, and exact. Yet, he was also being careful of the passenger he was carrying, Peach sensed that clearly, that he was in no danger of falling or being hurt. 

They flashed around a corner, Blaise's haunches bunching for a leap forward and Peach gasped as they flew down the long, straight hallway, wind whistling through his own hair. He buried his face in the dark fur under his cheek, sensing more than seeing the walls zipping past. 

Then Blaise was stopping, slowly, cautiously, so as not to abruptly unseat his passenger. There was a shriek of surprise, and Peach glanced up, heart racing. They were at Poppy Pomfrey's little hospital wing. The other leopards were standing about, catching their breath, sides moving in and out, after the frantic sprint. Madame Pomfrey was standing nearby, hand to her mouth for a startled instant, a bottle of Smell-B-Gone air freshener in her hand, then she rushed forward to bend over the two men tangled up on the floor. Peach clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, it smelled just awful in here!

Harry and Professor Snape were sprawled across the floor at the foot of one of the beds, Harry's fingers pinching the tip of his nose, making a disgusted face. In the bed Headmaster Dumbledore was a fantastic shade of green and hovering above him was the small, accusing green orb. It toook Peach a minute to figure out why that was so significant. Then he gasped in horror, bile rising in his throat. 

The smell was coming from the man. Professor Dumbledore was the one who had been peeping. Peach felt his genitals shrink up in an effort to hide inside his body. A low, ominous growling had begun to fill the room as the were-leopards, coming to the same conclusion, inched towards the bed. 

A shout split the air, deep and ressonant, cutting through all the movement with the sharp precision of a knife blade. Peach felt Blaise go to the floor in an instinctual reaction, spilling him to the wooden surface, and crouching over him protectively. Frantically, Peach clawed at the fur blocking his view until he was able to see....

A tiny woman, not more than five feet tall, probably and inch or two less, shorter even than himself. Behind her were three massive men, wands in hand, arms crossed, brows beetled threateningly, as they scowled at everyone and everything fiercely. It was the tiny woman who roared.

"Don't touch that man! The scoundrel is mine!" Peach blinked rapidly. The voice, grating like stone rubbing against stone, could not possibly be coming from such a dimminutive creature. Then an earsplitting screech came from the door way and Peach again scrambled to get a look. Blaise hunching down even lower, covering even more of him.

"Momsy!" Cried out the small blond boy in the doorway. Hansie rushed to his mother, grabbing her and hugging her, towering over her, even at twelve years old. 

"MMMPPPH!" She said into his shoulder. Then as she managed to rear back, feet kicking in the air as her son hefted her off the ground. "Put Momsy down, Hans. I have some business to attend to." Once her feet were back on the ground, she stalked over to the bed and the wide eyed Dumbledore laying on his back, trapped in the containment spell. Her bared teeth, tiny in comparison to the huge fangs of the lycanthropes in the room, still made everyone in the area take a giant step backwards.

"Albus Dumbledore." She shouted, all around her the curtains shivered and the bedsteads bounced over the flooring. "You are being taken into custody and will be transported to St. Mungos immediately. You are being detained on the charges of sexual abuse and foul exploitation of the children in your care."

On the bed Dumbledore gaped, then spluttered, then frowned, then shivered. No words came out of his mouth. The large, menacing Aurors stepped forward and grabbed the man, bed and all, hefting him onto their shoulders. Then vanished in a puff of purple smoke.

There was a hiss of disappointment in the room coming from multiple throats as the thwarted lycanthropes glowered at the plume of rapidly disappearing mist.


	101. Chapter 101

Chapter 101

 

"Dumbledore? It was Dumbledore, and he was peeping in on the students in the changing rooms?" Draco exclaimed, stunned by the news. The idea of the old, wizard, the *grandfatherly* man peering through a magicked glass into the changing rooms made him shudder. He'd spent plenty of his time at Hogwarts on the teams. Dumbledore had probably had ample time to view his bared charms, as much as anyone else's. Draco felt ill. Just thinking about what Dumbledore had been doing.....

Mantheer came forward, sensing his distress and lifted the baby from Draco's arms. The cherubic face grimaced for an instant then the deep blue eyes refocused on the large man's face and the baby gurgled, reaching out one chubby, rounded arm. Mantheer beamed at the boy. 

"That one is Cuchlain? And this..." Harry held up the tiny bundle he was still holding. "This is Padraig?" He shook his head, it still amazed him, these were Draco's kids. Draco had given birth to them. Draco nodded. 

"How you can tell them apart I'll never know. They look an exact match to me." Harry stared into the infant's drowsing face, fascinated. "They are so lovely, Dray."

"Yes. They are." Draco said, watching Mantheer cradle the small body to his chest, with a crooning purr. He was endlessly amazed at how tender the large men were with the twins. How the huge hands could touch, feather light, care and caress. And the babies, they clearly loved their two extra Daddies. He smiled. His two husbands for all intents and purposes. He would marry them one day. How had he managed to be so lucky?

"Poppy said he had been doing a lot more than that." Harry said to his friend, after a time of silent appreciation of the tiny baby. He was tickled pink to have finally been able to hold the children without being run off by the overprotective guardians. Then again, the way the world was, perhaps they weren't overprotective at all. "He had taken several of the boys to his bed and then either erased their memories or placed charms on them so they couldn't speak of it, or thought it was their doing, that they wanted it, that they asked for it, initiated it. It is going to be a long time before this is over, Dray, it is going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

"How can it get worse than having him out there, abusing the children and no one the wiser? At least he can't hurt anyone new, not locked away in St. Mungos." Draco said, standing up from his seat on the chair and moving to the couch to sit next to Harry. He leaned in, making faces at the just waking Padraig, who regarded him solemnly. He didn't try to take the child from Harry, but leaned their shoulders together. "Harry, what would I be driven to do if someone tried such a thing with my boys?"

Harry made a sound of distress. "Never. Never. It won't happen to them. They will be safe." Harry tried to reassure his friend. Draco shook his head.

"No one wants to think it could happen. No one will talk of it, so when it happens we are all shocked at having been blind to it. It might have been stopped years ago, if those who were around really thought about what they were seeing. Instead of pretending they weren't seeing anything at all." He reached out and touched the pink cheek with a tender finger. Harry watched him, then passed the baby to Draco, knowing Draco needed the soothing sensation of holding his son. Draco gathered the infant up close.

"They are all going to remember. All of them. That is how it will be worse." Harry said. "He has been at Hogwarts for over fifty years. How many children did he hurt?"

"Oh, god. Harry. Do you think..." Draco swallowed. "Some one we know....maybe one of us? I mean I know we have been victims of his spying and looking is bad enough, but...did he *touch* one of us?"

"I don't know Draco. Snape has already scanned me. Dumbledore never touched me. And I would say that he probably knew better than to touch any of the pride's children. If one of us smelled him on one of the children.... He would have been killed. Surely, he knew that. But, as for others. Our classmates. Probably more than one. We'll have to help them." He sighed.

"Yes. And it's not going to happen again, not at Hogwarts, not with Snape as the new Headmaster." Draco said. He was pleased things had worked out that way. Severus Snape, stern and strict, would never bend any rule that might allow a student put at risk. And his eagle eye would be peeled for any signs that things weren't well. He had a soft spot for the students a mile wide, no matter how well he hid it. Draco knew it was there.

"You should have seen Blaise and Peach. Peach was ready to challenge Graeme over his punishment of Blaise for sneaking out to Hogwarts." Harry said suddenly, giggling. "You should have seen Graeme's face."

"Peach Alexander?" Draco asked in surprise. Blaise was big and strong. The idea of the small youth, a full year behind Blaise, coming to his defense... Soaking wet, the boy wasn't more than 100 pounds.

"He damn near scratched his way out of Snape's hold! And Blaise...well, I don't know how things work with pride members and people outside of the pride...." Harry said.

"It is very difficult." Draco said. "But, not impossible. "And the pride has decided to take a more visible role in the wizarding world. Perhaps they will find it not as hard as in the past. Snape and Amrys are making it work after all."

"They are." Harry agreed. Though it had been very odd to watch his very proper and formal instructor be kissed, passionately, by the pride's handsome second.

"Which leaves you. And my father." Draco said, slyly. Harry blushed bright red. He and Lucius had been having a great and romantic resurgence. Lucius, exquisitely tender and attentive, Harry thought he would burst with joy. He had felt no pain when he saw Lucius embracing Fred Weasley. His own heart was too full. He finally understood, Lucius was king. His love helped the pride stay connected, gave them all reassurance of his devotion. Sometimes, that love was physical. But of all the loves, Harry knew he came first. He had no more doubt. He was the Chosen.

"We will be having a ceremony for the two of you. For the pride to bear witness." Draco said, voice soft, as he rocked his baby in his arms.

"Uhm...." Harry said. And Draco laughed out loud. 

"Come Harry, surely you aren't going to tell me you are shy? Not the way you and my father have been seen around the Manor lately." Draco teased. Harry spluttered, his color not fading one bit. 

Mantheer appeared with Cuchlain, freshly washed and re-bundled, and placed the boy very carefully in Harry's surprised arms. 

"Thank you, Mani." Draco lifted his face and accepted the long, sweet kiss his guardian gave him. He shivered, as the delicious sensations awoke in his body, anticipation for the moment they would find themselves alone, with Yaji. It was his turn to blush when Mantheer pulled away, and Draco caught sight of Harry's grin. Well, he was a mother, sure, but he was still young and very much in love. With a healthy sexual appetite.

Draco watched the awesome sight of one of his lovers walking away from him. The man's form was without parallel. So large and powerful, in perfect condition. When they were together, each time, Draco felt as if his breath was taken away. All that sinew, muscle and heat....

How strange was it, that he, a man who found women shockingly sexy and wildly desireable, would be here, in a committed realtionship with two men, who he loved to distraction. Who he trusted with his life and more importantly with the lives of his children. He was raising his children with them. Amrys came around to see the boys often, held them and obviously doted on them, but Mantheer and Yaji, they were raising the twins. For all intents and purposes, the twins had one mother and three fathers. And Draco was happy it was that way.

In fact, Draco would not be surprised if he never took another woman to his bed. With the way Mantheer and Yaji kept him occupied, he would never find the energy. Nor, the need. They made it clear they thought of him as theirs. That they loved him. And he was perfectly happy to have that forever. He sighed, happily, and kissed Padraig's downy blond curls.

He looked up into Harry's eyes, and they shared a joyful smile. Harry, too, it seemed, was happy now.


	102. Chapter 102

Chapter 102

 

Blaise stood outside of the Slytherin common room and adjusted his tie for the fourth time. He was not wearing the usual student's robes. He was no longer a student at Hogwarts after all.

He was here for a very different reason. It made him nervous, though he repeatedly told himself there was nothing to be nervous about. Fred and George had tried giving him pep-talks, but even that didn't help all that much. He wiped his damp palms on the trousers of his day suit.

He had not had time to see Peach in more than a week. They had spoken and sent Owls almost every day. Mostly about the simple stuff that friends talk about. How the day has been, what they were going to do the next day, about school. Nothing too serious. Blaise wanted to change that. And he thought it best to do it in person. 

Peach didn't know a heck of a lot about Blaise's life in the pride. He knew that Blaise was a were-leopard and he had very recently seen Blaise shift. It had seemed to thrill him rather than put him off, thankfully. 

Still, Blaise was terribly worried it would be too much for the other youth, and that Peach wouldn't want to stay his friend, or take the next step with him. And that was difficult for him to think about. He felt strongly for the other young man. When they were together, he was so aware of the way Peach smelled, could watch him laugh and smile, or be serious, even study withhim, and never get tired of it. When he'd played his Quidditch, Peach was always there, rooting him on, and nothing made Blaise play harder or better.

Blaise had asked for permission to tell Peach more about the pride. Peach had a right to know what he was getting into if he did decide to get involved with Blaise. Amrys, the leader he had asked for permission, sat him down and asked why he should say yes to the request. His face very serious, very concerned.

"I am not sure what you are asking." Blaise replied a bit uncertainly. The blond man leaned forward and touched the youth's hand. Their eyes met. Amrys' soft voice began to explain.

"We are your family. I am asking you to tell me why this person deserves to know our family secrets." Amrys told the young man. "Tell me why you wish to share such intimate things with an outsider. A non-lycanthrope."

Blaise had to think about that. Answering that question meant he had to face his feelings openly. "I don't want to mislead him. I want more than to be his friend, but I want him to know who I am before I ask him to make that kind of choice."

"Keep going." Amrys encouraged, glad that Blaise was thinking of the other young man's well-being in this. His deep blue eyes were intent on the younger man's face.

"He is my best friend outside of the pride." Blaise stopped and thought about that. Then added to his statement. "I think, he might be my best friend, including the ones I have in the pride. At least I think so. I think I want him to be. I don't like having things I can't tell him, things I am not supposed to share."

"Is this about sex, Blaise?" Amrys asked him quietly. "Desire and lust are powerful motivators. And not wrong. But, for simple desire...our secrets shouldn't be shared with all those you want to take to bed."

"I...I haven't, I mean I have thought about it. But, I have not had sex with him. It is more than that. I hope it is. I want...to spend more time with him. I want to talk to him, tell him who I really am. Let him know the real me. If he wants to." The young brunette told his pride's second. 

"Friendship outside of the pride is a good thing. Love is more complicated. Many in the wizarding world do not approve of the way we live. The communal housing, the way we conduct ourselves and raise our young. How the family decides if the child will be turned, more than the child. These things, these ways that we are different, they will all complicate your friendship with this young man. Are you ready for that?" Amrys probed.

"I don't know. If he doesn't want anything more to do with me, then that will hurt." Blaise said.

"You are asking permission to court him for admittance to the pride?" Amrys said back, as if he was finally understanding how Blaise felt. 

"Yes. That is it." Blaise said with relief, happy to have his feeling put into practical terms. Into words and spoken aloud, as if that gave them some little power, more chance of being made real.

"Courting as a very serious business, kitten. Normally we take new members from within our own ranks. Adding outsiders is a serous risk. They do not know how we live. Many feel we are too controlling, that our kings are too strong, and that we are immoral, little more than beasts. If we had not made a conscious decision to live more openly in the wizarding world, I would tell you no. But," Amrys let out a great sigh. He cupped Blaise's chin in his palm, raising the boy's face. "We have made the decision, and so, yes, you may try."

"Thank you." Blaise said.

"You have my permission to tell him, but I would advise you to move very slowly. Have him come to see us here and how we live. Do not hide things from him, but, do not move to quickly. He may not be comfortable with our lifestyle. He may not be able to tolerate that you do not sleep alone, nor are you celibate. So, go slowly. That is my recommendation. But. Remember. I am not the authority on whether he may find a place with us and be changed. For that you will have to ask our king. If he proves worthy of you and open to the way we live. He will be treated as our guest here."

"Yes, second. I understand." And Blaise did. He had hesitated to tell Peach about his life at the Manor. Nor had he shared that he never slept alone, that he shared his bed and his body, happily. Blaise recalled very clearly Harry's horror of learning that. Peach would no doubt feel much the same at first. And his family.... Blaise had no idea how to approach them, or if he wanted them to know he was courting their son.

"You will also have to take great precautions with him, and ensure that he will not be injured or inadvertently changed. Do not think that the situation with the Chosen's accidental change means we will tolerate more of the same. You will ensure the boy comes to no harm." Amrys said sternly. "You are young and you have shown that youth and it's indiscretion very recently in flaunting my order against returning to Hogwarts. If you can love as an adult and convince us you are more than a willful kitten, then it is possible your suit for your friend may be granted. We will watch and see."

"Yes, second. You have my word. I will be careful." Blaise said. 

"Good. Because, children are not granted the right to bring a mate in to the pride. If you wish him to be considered there are rules. If it is only sex you want and a casual friend, then lay with him. If it is a mate you want, then do not. He is not to share your body unless he is approved to enter the pride. To not follow this rule means he will never be granted admission. I expect you to abide by that, to keep you, him, and the pride safe. Think how the wizards would react if we accidentally changed one of their own? They will believe they are not safe in close company with us. Now. How old is this student?" Amrys inquired, after receiving Blaise's nod and murmured assurance he understood how important it was that Peach not be risked.

"He is a year behind me. Sixteen." Blaise said.

"Severus will be concerned. I will speak with him. I must tell you again, because it is critically important, do not rush into a physical relationship assuming he will be granted status within the pride. Get to know him, let him know you. Take it slowly. If he is worthy then he will be considered. And he will wait for you as you wait for him. He is not yet pride, do not treat him as pride." The second warned. Blaise nodded solemnly. And Amrys continued.

"I know how difficult this is and will be. Loving someone not of the pride is very hard. Take it slowly. Come to me if you need to talk. In fact I expect you to talk to me regularly. I would not advise that you share this with the third, not yet, he has very strong feelings on this subject. He believes it is not worth the risk at this early juncture. He has advised me to move cautiously with the Headmaster, and Severus and I are both adults. He would likely order you not to see the boy again. So, do not seek him out over this." Amrys reached out and stroked the kitten's hair.

"Perhaps having a moment with Harry to talk of it would not be amiss, however. The Chosen keeps secrets well, and should Graeme find out...Harry would likely intervene for you. If you are comfortable speaking with him."

"Well, OK." Blaise thought about it. "I was thinking about talking to Draco?" He offered.

"A wise choice. The Mother is a good ally to have." Amrys smiled at the thought of the mother of his children. Draco's nurturing touch might be just what Blaise needed to steady him on this difficult path.


	103. Chapter 103

Chapter 103

 

Harry flipped the pages of the spellbook while he walked. Dull. Deadly dull. He sighed. After the events surrounding Dumbledore's disgrace he had promised himself he would do more to cultivate his magic in the interest of being able to protect the pride. But, it was so dry. Despite his best intentions he was looking for any excuse to set the book aside.

It gave him a new perspective on the lectures and classes he had attended at Hogwarts. He had thought many of them unendurable. But compared to this...they were top line, fantastic, enjoyable. He sighed again. How was one supposed to learn when teachers and experts couldn't find any way at all to make their subjects palatable? I mean if the experts couldn't make their favorite studies interesting, who could? Gahh. He yawned hugely, rotating his slim shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles.

He meandered down the long hall, heading for the bathing pool. A nice, hot soak and he'd feel better, the ache in his neck from bending over and reading the minute hen-scratch the author of the book called writing, had his whole neck and shoulders in knots.

He entered the bathing room and carefully set the old book on the stand just inside the door where it would be safe from water damage. He stretched as he looked around the steamy room. His eyes lit on a long, coppery swatch of hair wound into a rope and slung over a man's pale shoulder. The shoulder, beautifully muscular, belonged to none other than the pride's fierce third, Graeme. He was nude, and lay on his back, slumbering after a dip in the pool. His chest rose and fell rhythmically.

Harry eyed the furs, a perfectly Harry sized spot was free next to the sleeping man. Oh. An afternoon nap. Suddenly, that sounded so much better than the pool. He crept closer, shedding his robes. He curled into the warm side of the slumbering man, letting out a happy sigh, snuggling. Perfect. Graeme's arm went around him. 

"Uhm, kitten...."Graeme murmured into the dark, raven curls of Harry's hair. Harry shivered, a good shiver and settled into the embrace, his eyelids drifting shut. Warm. Safe. Happy. Sleepy. 

 

Hands were moving him. Arms, big and strong, lifting him. Cradling him against a broad, familiar chest. He burrowed closer as he was carried across the floor. Good smell, mate smell, he smiled sleepily. It was great to have a sensitive nose. It meant he could identify the person carrying him without opening his too heavy eyes. Lucius. 

"Book...." He mumbled. Couldn't leave it here. It was old, and valuable, even if it was so deathly boring. And it belonged to Severus. The professor had loaned it to Harry with a strange look when the young were-leopard had asked for it. Harry now understood that look. He'd return the book, and then ask Snape's advice on what book or scroll to try next. Something less like chewing on sawdust.

"Graeme has the book. Sleep." Lucius' vibrant, rich voice lulled him into sleep. He faded away while being rocked by the cadence of the king's rhythmic step.

He woke to hands stroking him. Gentle hands, rubbing the arches of his feet, rolling his toes, pressing with firm gentleness, the soles of his feet, until he let out a very satisfied moan. Wonderful. There was a low laugh at the sound of his moan, and the fingers kept up their magic touch. Finding spots he had not known were sore. Working them out, moving on up to his ankles and calves. God. Such. Bliss.

Those incredible thumbs worked deep into the firm muscles of his lower legs. He went limp. So, so good. Up to his knees. Done just right, rubbing over the slightly knobby joints. Harry let out a sigh of pure contentment as the massage moved up to his thighs. Not tickling, thank goodness, deep and tender and meltingly what he needed now. Palms cupped his buttocks, his lower back, finding the tension, smoothing it out.

His back, oh, it was wondrous. He was handled like clay, formed and reformed, as each tiny trigger point was discovered and brushed away, leaving him so relaxed he was caught between awake and asleep, limbs heavy, eyes closed, breath slow and even. 

A small kiss, lips warm and dry, brushed over his cheek, wandered to his neck, where they lingered as Harry found the energy, somehow to arch his throat, and let the mouth find a patch of skin to nuzzle. The furs were so incredibly soft under his fingers as he fisted them in reaction to the singing along his rousing nerves. Nipping kisses down and across his shoulders. Harry arched his back automatically, pressing his hips upward, feeling thighs, large and strong straddling him, while the tongue continued it's blessed work down his spine.

Kisses and licks dotted his dimpling skin, his sighing moans coming far more often as the wet caresses woke him from his languor. Teeth joined the tongue and lips, biting just right, just hard enough to make his whole body clench, goose-flesh spread like a wave, he was so hard, straining, pressed into the luxurious furs as the tongue delved into the top of the crease of his buttocks. Velvet, moist, teasing him, flickering.

Harry felt himself opened, hips lifted, a soft pillow placed under his pelvis. Then a wet touch, licking up his inner thigh. Licks. Placed once, twice, at the point where the curve of his butt met his leg. Warm breath eddying around the wet line, cooling it. Up the back of his scrotum, soft, velvety skin tightening at the attention, drawing up and wringing a groan from Harry's lips. 

He turned his head to see the gold-silver head of his king, his lover, his own Chosen, moving over his body. The pink tongue reaching out, Harry let out a cry at the sight, and Lucius' pale eyes found his. Burning, passion filled, needy, hot. Harry cried out again, spreading himself wider, dropping his head down, even as he lifted his hips, arms shaking too hard to do anything but reach out to the side, spread wide, waiting, waiting....for, oh...just that...touch...there.... Hips caressed, roundness kissed, bitten, as he ws positioned. Canting them to the angle that he and Lucius both loved.

Oh, so.....Harry flushed. It was incredible. To be possessed, handled, pleasured here, like this. He felt, not the prolonged teasing of tongue any more, what he felt was heat, thickness, what he wanted, entering him. Hands holding his hips, knees parting his legs further, open without hope of defense, surrendering, the stretch, being filled, oh.... Yes. Giving in to it... He whimpered. Felt Lucius' body respond to that, to the sound, shaking, tremoring, driving in, deep.

The power his lover had, Harry never tired of feeling it surrounding him, penetrating him, to his very core. He was filled, yes, he was held, and loved, and taken until his very bones turned to water. The gathering storm of his orgasm like liquid fire, building in his pelvis sparkling, intense, growing. A clenching fist. It spilled over him, and he keened his joy, feeling the almost overwhelming bearing down, fluttering of his body squeezing Lucius, drawing a shout of release from the larger man, buried inside of him. 

Then he was lifted, turned and held. Was there anything better than this? A large, hand splayed across his lower back, guided him into position. He let out a gasp of surprise as he was re-entered, his body accepting the hard length, welcoming it even in the supreme relaxation of post-orgasm. He trembled, the small spasms not yet completed, made all the more intense by being stretched once more. He let out his cry of want, of re-awakening desire when Lucius rode in far, deep, with strength.

Harry bent his neck back, Lucius' teeth finding his vulnerable throat, biting, worrying it, licking away the exciting sting of nearly too much. Harry shuddering, wrapping his legs around the waist of his big lover, feeling hands cupping his buttocks, lifting, thumbs separating him, so the thrust ran to the deepest point. He mewled at that, at the pleasure cascading, not stopping, his body, his need spiraling upwards. His tender nipples found, nibbled, sucked, to aching hard tips.

Lucius smiling, but with serious, intent eyes, looking down, Harry reaching up and laying a hand, shaking, as he was taken, as his hips turned to jello, as Lucius turned his head, and sucked the younger man's fingers into his mouth. Harry gasped, thrusting up to meet Lucius' stroke, then gasped again. Fire and ice. Swirling, together. Hot, sweet, long, my, god, how...

Harry howled. A long, keening cry of mind blowing, body trembling, nerve sparkling, rush of tingling repeated release, washing over him, over them. Of Lucius' bass groan, of his teeth sinking into the flesh of Harry's throat, marking him, exciting, loss of all control, loss of anything that was not pure sensation.

Good. Good. Gooooood.................. God. So.........


	104. Chapter 104

Chapter 104

 

"Draco." Mantheer came up behind the young man. Draco lifted his head from the list of names he was compiling. Aside from the pride, there were a number of others who needed to be asked to attend Harry and Lucius' bonding/wedding. Persons who could not be called by Lucius as king, yet were important to be included. Invitations would have to be owled out to them soon.

"What is it?" Draco asked, a smile growing on his face as he looked up into the rough, masculine face of his leopard. Mantheer grew still at that look. The adoration and the love in those blue eyes. His hand moved, unbidden, slipping under Draco's arm, wrapping around to his back, lifting him up out of the chair, Draco letting out a squeak of surprise. 

"Mani!" He gasped out. "I am busy!" But the were-leopard simply pressed a feather light kiss on his cheek, a second on his ear, catching the lobe in a tiny nipping bite that sent shivers through Draco, refocusing his attention. 

"I want you." Mantheer said, against his ear. "I see you like this, and I need you so badly that I ache with not having you, my love." 

The quill dropped from Draco's fingers no longer important, ink spattering the tiles in tiny, black droplets, unnoticed. He lifted his arms, winding them around the tall man's neck. Feeling the muscular body slide along his own, as he was lifted a fraction higher, so their lips could meet. Clinging in the softest of passionate kisses. Lasting less than a second, but an eternity of feeling passing between them.

Draco almost protested looking over his shoulder, back at his unfinished work. Then Mantheer placed him on top of the furs and lay over him. Draco shivered, face up under the larger man, enveloped by him, feeling the puffs of heated breath at the base of his throat. He let out a soft sigh, giving in, arching up into the love bite. The sheer size of his great lover stunning each time they lay together.

Mantheer's teeth grazed his skin, careful, agonizingly sharp, electric. The tremors shooting sparklingly bright through Draco. The big hands moved pale blond hair aside, and nuzzled the soft skin at Draco's throat, in the crook where shoulder met neck, where the pulse already beat wildly. He licked the spot, slow and sensual, savoring the taste of Draco, musky, sweet, warm and with a faint tang of salt, and growing arousal. Mantheer growled.

"You are mine. Ours. I want to have you, now." Mantheer told the youth, "I want to bury myself inside of you." Draco shivered.

"Oh...." Draco let out the sound, his body going heavy upon hearing the sound, the deep rumble through his skin as much as his hearing, his head falling back, his arms opening, giving himself over to his larger lover, shivering as he felt the man smile against his skin. 

Draco felt the neck of his robe being lowered, inch by slow inch, as Mani nuzzled his nose down Draco's chest, pressing his warm lips to each square inch of fevered skin, until it dimpled into goose-bumps. Draco sighed, a shuddering, uneven release of breath, not moving, melting into the furs, boneless, nothing more important that the sensation of being loved. Mantheer kept up the slow exploration. A lick, as kiss, a bite, so careful.

Draco whimpered when Mantheer's hands closed on his hips. His drawers were lowered, slowly, tossed aside, his robe not taken away, but spread out around him, a wash of blood red crimson, in the dark furs of the bed, and he, so milk pale in sharp contrast, lay like a panting, lusty gift among it all. The neck of the robe, the sleeves, trapping his arms tight to his body, restraining him from movement, from reaching out to touch, though he yearned to do so.

Kisses fell over his face, his chest, his tight pale nipples, he groaned, a light sighing sound, breathless, needy. Mantheer's response, to lave his tongue across the edge of one of those so sensitive nubs. Draco sighed again, squirmed, lifting his chest higher, wanting the mouth to take it, his beaded nipple, into the heat and suckle him. Mantheer licked him. Draco moaned. Mantheer licked. Draco raised one leg, wrapped it around the were-leopard, pressed himself, hard under the thin silk, up into Mani's belly. The hand on his buttock, under the robe, squeezed, a gentle flex. And Mantheer licked.

"Mani!" Draco cried out. "Please, taste me..." 

When teeth grazed the pale nipple, Draco let out a mewling cry, trembling, his hands still caught as if tied, unable to reach out, unable to win free, a captive. Nipping bites trailed all over his pectoral, the aureole and at last, his nipple. Mantheer lifted him, lapped at him, made Draco squirm. Opening his legs, hoping that the big man, his lover, would touch him, take all of him, suck him harder. 

Mantheer's hands clenched, raising Draco, rubbing against him, slow and deliberate, parting his legs, wide, letting Draco feel the long, stiff rod of flesh waiting for him, wanting him, wanting to sink into him, so deep they would both groan at the feel of it. Would cry out their passion and need.

Draco whispered his desire. Begging in puffs of breath against Mantheer's hair for the big man to prepare him, and then slide into him, inch by glorious inch until he was filled to bursting. The memory was never so strong, so overwhelming as the experience. As the feel of himself being taken, ridden, pleasured to madness.

Draco was reminded of that fact, because Mantheer did taste him. Tongue laving at him, hot, wet and distracting, bringing his breath up short, nearly a scream as he wished he could find the strength to push himself up onto all fours, or just lift his hips an somehow capture what he craved, to open himself, to beg. But he didn't have the will to do any thing but lay submissive, needy, as Mantheer placed him, to feel the tongue that made love to him, that tickled and danced on his skin.

"Uhhhh." Draco had no words to describe how he felt, was feeling. He was held, his hips high, fingers sweeping over the dimples of his hips, while his nipple was feasted upon. Shaking with the deliberate, slow, lingering licks across one nipple then the other, to his neck, teeth sinking in, a gentle bite, not enough to draw blood, just enough to send him reeling from the surge of pure adrenaline filled lust. 

Mantheer's hands, his fingers, dipped into the crease of his body, roving up the vulnerable, soft mass of his scrotum, toe curlingly intense, pressing there, rolling the tender orbs until Draco nearly cried with the sensation, wanting more, wanting all. Soft as a breath, Mantheer touched the crinkle of flesh, the portal that protected the inside of Draco's body, the intimate center of him. The touch stayed, soft, insanely so, Draco, caught, unable to move, unable to take more without help, pinned, waiting, waiting, for the man to give him what it was he promised.

The touch was slick, wet. Lingering, almost imperceptibly moving inside, Draco sighing with the motion, the advance that was opening him, slow, sweet, slippery wet, under the robe, out of sight. Only a sliver of white flesh showing down the front of his hips, his arousal there, hard, white, throbbing, Mantheer's hand hidden beneath.

Then, barely prepared, Draco felt the different pressure, the size, so large, so rigid, so demanding. He was shocked anew at the girth of his lover. He rolled his head side to side, sweat dewing on his lip. Mantheer moved, suddenly...there, pressing, slow and inevitable, sinking in, Draco, stunned at the sensation the frighteningly wonderful feel of being filled, of the growing pressure, dilating him. His body flowering open.

The feel of it overwhelmed everything. He could not think, he did not care, the world narrowing down to this, to Mantheer, over him. Mantheer in him. Mantheer's lips finding his, kissing, tongues twining, lazy licks every bit as slow as the piercing of his body.

Draco fisted his hands in the thick furs. Held on. The progression of their coupling almost too slow, almost too much, the nibbling kisses on his mouth all that kept him aware, sane. Oh, Merlin! Had they ever gone this deep? Had he been taken to this point, his hips canted just so, his body unresisting, accepting this. Done.

It was done. He was taken. He was theirs, Mantheer's, his. All of him, heart, body and soul. As if no part of him could now be untouched, the cry that tore from him was long and trembling sweet. Mantheer lifted his head, looked down at him, and withdrew. Draco moaned, head tossing back and forth. Hips lifting trying to keep what he had, the incredible fullness, slipping away. He mewled his loss, Mantheer licking the sound away.

And back, in. "Ohhhhhhhhhh........." Draco felt the big body come closer, pressing tight, impossible. Belly to belly.

"Ride me, little love. Take me." Mantheer growled into his ear, nuzzling the curled edge. Draco fought to obey, fought to move himself on that column of flesh. "Yes. Like that."

Mantheer helped him, rode him. Like the tide into him, pulling back only to return. His plan could only be to drive the young man to madness, to screaming ecstasy. Draco writhed. Wanting it, all of it. The powerful rhythm, the pounding of their hearts. 

He cried out as Mantheer brought him to the edge, played his body like a wild, wanton thing. Yet with such love that there was no shame, just hot, crazy love, transformed into burning lust, into wild heaving bodies, thrusting and taking, begging cries, until the edge. 

It rose and took them, took him, Draco screaming his release, his body seizing his lover, taking him over, as they tumbled together. Gasping, panting, jetting heat, liquid, melting hot, oh so good, and well, insanely well done.


	105. Chapter 105

Chapter 105

 

Blaise adjusted the bow tie nestled against the base of Peach's throat. Peach stretched his neck out as long as he could, peering around Blaise's bulk and into the mirror. He felt a little overdressed, especially when he looked at Blaise, who was wearing robes that were loose and flowing in a gold edged honey and amber streaked silk. Blaise looked so good Peach had to almost force his eyes back to checking his own reflection. He swallowed hard. He looked so...ordinary.

He was dressed in black, a nice suit, white shirt, a green and silver bow tie, very Slytherin. He tried over and over to tie the darned thing, finally giving up and asking for Blaise's help. Blaise, with his long, agile fingers had no trouble tying the infernal thing. Now he stroked it as he stepped back so Peach could see the full effect. It was done right, but it still made Peach feel...so normal. Not like Blaise who looked so...stupendous, so different, so grown up.

He looked so formal, he thought. He glanced over at Blaise again. Unlike the relaxed, utterly masculine beauty of his friend Blaise, who looked like a young foreign prince, Peach thought. Not like a school boy dressed up for graduation or the like. He sighed.

"What is wrong?" Blaise asked, giving in to the urge to brush a lock of hair away from Peach's face. Peach instinctively leaned into the almost caress, flushing with pleasure. Only just stopping the reaction he was sure would upset Blaise, turning his face into the hand and planting a kiss there. If only, he thought. If only I dared.

"I look...uh, stiff? I mean you look awesome. I wish I had something like that. Dressed up but not so uncomfortable." Peach said, frustrated. Blaise considered him seriously. Peach looked great. 

"We tend to lounge around on pillows rather than chairs," Blaise said, explaining. "Or furs. Suits would be a bit uncomfortable." He further explained, shaking out the voluminous folds of his robes. Showing Peach ow much extra room ther was. "If it wasn't such an important gathering, most of us would be wearing just the pants."

Peach fought to keep that image from taking over all his brain and body. His skin tightened all over, from head to foot, just imagining it. He turned slightly, but kept his eyes on Blaise's handsome face. "Oh," He said. Swallowing again for the tenth time or more. Blaise, the athlete, in nothing but pants, his strong, glorious chest bare. Peach caught himself before he let out the moan of longing that was building in his throat.

"You OK Peach?" Blaise asked worried. "I thought it would be fun to go to the wedding, that you would have fun, I mean. But I can understand if you'd rather not." 

The disappointment was not possible to hide, filling his voice as he thought of Peach not there. He was more convinced than ever that Peach, his classmate from Hogwarts, was his one true love. He knew he was terribly young to decide such a thing. They were both young, but he was so sure. His heart beat strongly when Peach was near. When his sunset eyes looked deep into his own, Blaise felt energized, alive. When he thought of kissing Peach, it was Blaise's turn to swallow hard.

"No, no, Blaise. I want to go with you. I do. It's just...I wish I had something like your clothes to wear." Peach said, breathless under the look Blaise was giving him. Oh, god, he wanted to put his hand up to cup the handsome face, to have the right to kiss him. One sweet, long, lasting kiss. Just one. Please, Merlin. This time he couldn't stop the small hungry sound he let out. But he lowered his eyes quickly, turning back to the mirror.

"I think one of my littermates might have something to fit you. Maybe Harry. He's just about your size." Blaise said quickly, the idea of Peach in his pride's robes....

"Oh! I couldn't! He's your pride's Chosen! You've told me what that means. How could wear his clothes?" Peach said awestruck by the very idea. The Chosen was like a prince in Peach's mind. He couldn't run around borrowing clothes from a prince, even if it was Harry Potter, who he'd spoken to now and again at school. Blaise laughed.

"He's not like that, you know how he is. He'll be fine with it." Blaise held out his hand automatically, forgetting Peach was not one of them, a lycanthrope. He froze, hand out, waiting to see what would happen. Peach didn't hesitate. He grabbed his friend's hand, his palm a tiny bit sweaty. Blaise thought he would melt into the floor, a big, wet, crazily in love puddle right there and then. He gently squeezed the hand that he held. "Come on." He managed to get out, tugging the willing Peach out of the room.

They raced down the busy halls. Blaise wondering if he would even be able to tell, or better yet to show Peach how the pride really lived. If he could someday tell him that he, Blaise, Stephen, Fred, George, Harry, and Ron and the others sometimes slept all together, naked and warm, in a pile of tangled limbs. Would he ever be so lucky as to have Peach understand what it was to truly be of the Pride? Would Peach ever sleep next to him, and the others? Blaise gulped at the vision that sent to his spinning brain.

Unlike at Hogwarts no one told them to stop running, Peach noticed. There were indulgent smiles. And called out greetings. But no threats of detention, of point's being deducted as they flew down the hall. It was amazing, how, just holding Blaise's hand, Peach felt he ran so much faster than he ever had before. He also knew he was grinning from ear to ear.

Far too soon they skidded to a stop outside of a room with the voices of several young males filtering out. Blaise led Peach inside without hesitation. Many eyes met theirs, but no one acted as if they were intruding. Hands reached out, and arms, hugging Blaise's if it were the most natural thing in the world. Peach was included in the group hugs, as if he belonged, solely on the basis of his being with Blaise.

"Hey, what's up?" One of the boys asked.

"I want to see if there are any robes to fit Peach. He is a little too uncomfortable in the suit." Blaise said, pulling back from the many armed hug, tucking Peach in under his arm, making it clear how he felt to his littermates. Peach was special to him, far beyond simple friendship. The other kittens in the room saw that at once and adjusted their actions with the practice of years of living in at least two separate worlds with very different customs. No overly familiar touching of the boy. No cuddling, unless Blaise made sure Peach was comfortable. 

"Here, try this." Fred Weasley said from the outer reaches of the group. "It'll fit him I bet, and bring out his eyes as well." The tall red head said, handing over a pair of loose black pants and an upper robe of red, orange, yellow and black streaks. Blaise took it, handing it to Peach.

"Want to try it? He asked, suddenly aware of Peach's need to change here, among strangers. He hoped the younger boy would not be self conscious He moved to shield Peach partially, with his much larger frame. Peach, to his relief, seemed not to even think before tearing at his bow tie, the same one that had taken so long to tie, pulling it off and then divesting himself of the rest of his suit. Blaise grinned. Screw the tie! He told himself, thrilled Peach was going to be wearing the pride's robes, like a pride member. Like Blaise's...beloved. 'Someday, be patient!' He told himself silently.

"Works best without the shoes and socks and the shorts." Stephan added, and once again Blaise held his breath to see what Peach would do, if he'd flinch. Peach just removed the said items tossing them in a heap and scrambling into the robes with Blaise helping him adjust the drape around his hips and shoulders. 

He could smell the heat and the happiness from his friend's body, Blaise realized. Peach was having a good, time, enjoying being here. Something big and wonderful swelled in his chest. He hugged Peach to his side, turning and presenting him to the others. There was a brief, assessing silence for a moment, then nodding heads. The tunic brought out the color of the youth's sunset eyes, turning them into blazing pools. The rather average school boy doing dress up turned into a handsome young man. Blaise beamed with enraptured pride at the admiration his littermates were showing. 

Peach felt unaccountably shy for a second as he waited to see the reaction, his face tucked in against Blaise's powerful shoulder. Blaise was so big, he made Peach, who was small for his age, feel so safe, and for the first time in his life, happy he was small, that he fit so perfectly under Blaise's arm, his face into the crook of his shoulder and chest. He reveled in the heat of the big body against his cheek.

"He's lovely." George Weasley said, draping his own arm over Fred's shoulder, resting his chin on his twin, and looking Peach up and down. "Just like one of us." He continued raising his eyes to meet Blaise's seeing the happy flush that statement brought to his littermate's face.

"If we hurry, we can get a bit to eat before the rest of them get there." Ron said, breaking into the short silence. "You look great, Peach. Come on, I'm hungry." And he headed out, robes fluttering behind him, followed but the rest of them, chattering away like any group of youths who knew each other well, in fact intimately.

"You are always hungry." Stephen said.

"You OK?" Blaise asked Peach, taking advantage of the moment of distraction as everyone piled out of the room ahead of them. Peach nodded, filled with happy excitement.

"Better than anything." He replied. He'd do anything, go anywhere, if Blaise would just keep the arm around him, touching him.

"Then let's go." Blaise smiled down. His eyes sparkling as he took in the bright cheeks, and parted lips, full and tempting, and....waiting. He didn't even think before he lowered his head and did what was perfectly natural. What he'd wanted to do for months, most of a year, actually.

He kissed his friend, gently, trembling, soft and sweet on those lovely lips. Tasted him, smelled him, felt the gasp of shock against his own mouth, and nearly fainted, thinking he'd gone to far, when Peach's arms went up and around his neck, holding him, keeping their mouths fused, in the most innocent, loving and wonderful kiss, Blaise could ever remember.


	106. Chapter 106

Chapter 106

 

Severus Snape, Potion's Master, and newly Headmaster of Hogwarts, poured himself a cup of tea letting it cool a bit while he selected the robes he'd wear for the ceremony. Amrys had gifted him with several, beautiful replicas of the pride's traditional robes and Severus thought it only fitting he wear them to the pride's function rather than one of his stiffly formal tailored suits.

His concentration was so great that he never noticed the ghostly form of the eavesdropping Peeves floating in the air watching him with blatant interest and curiosity. The little ghost drifted in closer as he watched the Headmaster pondering the many colors of silk hanging in his closet. He had taken to hanging around Snape when the man was at Hogwarts, admiring the energy and industry of the new head of the school. 

Snape turned and Peeves, knowing how Snape would hate discovering he was being watched, almost an echo of what had happened to the young students here for years at the hands of Dumbledore....decided to hide. The little ghost wiggled his way into the shelves of potions and herbs so carefully arranged there by Snape's exacting and organized hand. He fit tightly into the space, discovering not for the first time that ghosts could cramp up just as easily as the corporeal persons. But at least he was well hidden.

He squirmed a little as Snape drew the robes over his head, admiring the long, lean form as it disappeared under loose, flowing robes of deliciously soft and richly expensive handwoven silk. The man's very posture had changed, no longer stiff, he now moved with an upright grace. Peeves was amazed that being in love could so change a man like Severus Snape. 

The dark, blue-black color he chose brought out the incredible paleness of the Potion's Master's skin, and made his hair glisten, like a black fire was highlighting his lengthening hair. His dark eyes snapped with vitality. He looked really very handsome, Peeves thought, and years younger, taller, broader. He wriggled a bit more as Snape strode into his bathroom, disappearing from view.

All that wriggling...Peeves felt something give, and his eyes caught the small vial as it dropped off the shelf, his hand darted out and he caught it in mid fall, but the stopper fell out, bouncing down to strike the table on which the cooling cup of tea sat, bouncing high again, before ending behind the table, out of sight. 

Peeves let out a small gasp of horror as he watched what else fell, a few crystalline drops of the potion from the uncapped vial, plop, plop, in the tea. He let out a whimper, thinking that he must spill the tea before the man drank it. As he watched a faint release of mist rose up....then Peeves heard Severus coming back out into the open. He did the only thing he could, he dematerialized before he was discovered and had to explain himself, and what he was doing, to an enraged wizard.

Severus Snape absently reached for his tea, sipping it. He frowned, tried another sip. The leaves must have been old, there was s faintly bitter, musty taste lingering on his tongue. He carried the brewed tea the the sink and dumped it. He would have to get a new supply in. Washing the cup and leaving it on the side board. Then he headed out of the door, carefully sealing the wards behind him. He was resplendent in the floor length silk, a tall regal form that would drawn almost any eye.

Peeves materialized two floors away, shaking violently, chiding himself for making yet another bad choice, He should have taken his medicine and confessed the the professor. But it was too late now. He peered down at the tiny vial in his hands struggling to read the precise but cramped writing on the minute label. 

The size of the label and the vial was actually a frightening thing, it meant whatever the potion was, it required only a minute amount to be effective, or that the ingredients were so rare that Hogwarts could only afford a fraction of them. Peeves knew either reality did not bode well for him, he floated over to a window hoping the better light would make the reading easier. When he squinted, there next to the window, he could just make out the words. He gasped, dropping the vial with a clink, it shattered on the flagstones. Oh, gods, what had he done? He streaked towards the dungeon chambers, praying to Merlin he was not too late to reach Snape before he left the school grounds.

Peeves was less than a corridor away when he heard and felt the apparation spell that let him know Snape was out of his reach. He let the sob that was rising in his throat out. Oh, gods. Snape would kill him for this.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Severus apparated into the Malfoy Manor rubbing his belly. He wished he had finished his tea now. Or had a sliver of plain toast. He hadn't eaten in hours, and having something on his stomach might have soothed it. His lower stomach was a bit upset, roiling, like a restless snake was twisting and turning through his guts. All trembly. Which was not a word he habitually used when describing himself in any way, shape, or form. Yet it was entirely accurate this time. His insides felt trembly, anxious, empty. Restless. He drew in a deep breath.

"Sev." The warm voice of Amrys came from behind him as the were-leopard walked towards him, gorgeous in gold silk, breathtaking. The unsteady feeling faded as if it had never been and a new feeling replaced it. Wanting, needing, desire. Snape had to touch him. Had to.

Snape slid his arms around the tall, muscular form, wanting to be close, not wanting to be reserved, not now. He lifted his mouth, offering and Amrys never hesitated, taking him up on his unexpectedly offered lips, teasing his mouth with a kiss, possessive, deep, drawing a groan from the wizard. He reveled in the embrace, sinking his pale hands into the thick, blond hair of his love. Rubbing his scalp with adoring fingertips.

Then Snape heard a soft laugh from beside them. And sanity flooded back. They were in a crowded room in a crowded manor, waiting to see a royal bonding ceremony that was essentially the most important marriage in Snape's lifetime. And here he was, snogging in plain view of all the guests who cared to look. Not a position for the respected and very new Headmaster to take. He drew back, face flushed, straightening his robes, feeling the heat rise up his chest and neck, ending in his face. Amrys chuckled. Caressing the kiss swollen lips with a gentle thumb when Severus drew back.

"I love your passion, little mouse," the were said, running affectionate fingers through his lover's black locks. He loved that Severus was growing his hair, letting the strands go unchecked, untrimmed, until they reached past his shoulders. If Amrys had his way, they would soon cascade all the way to his hips, so that when the two of them coupled, they would do so on a bed of the wizard's lush hair, fanned out under his surrendering body. "I do not care who knows that you are mine, Severus."

Snape cleared his throat, forcing himself to drop his hand, and put a few inches between them. Instantly the gnawing in his gut resumed. He pressed a hand over his belly, and drew in another calming breath. The scent of Amrys was so close, so rich, so tempting, he would give anything for privacy, for enough time to feel that tall strong body possessing his, delving deep into him. Sweat sprang out all over his skin at the vision of it.

Amrys sniffed at the air, the pheromones were strong coming up off of his beloved wizard, and it made him want to growl, to step close and claim him. Even as he thought it, Amrys found his hands reaching out across that small amount of space the man had put between them. Dragging the man back up against his body, burying his nose in the sweet smelling hair, the curve of his neck. Merlin preserve him, Snape had never smelled so good before. 

Amrys lifted him, carrying him down the hall and into an empty room. The furs were just inside the door and he made use of them, putting Snape on top of their softness, his hands going to the ties of the robes and loosening them, pushing the floating silk off the pale shoulders so his mouth could wander over hotly desired flesh.

Severus moaned, arching up into the touch, arms outflung, knees already up, open, inviting. Amrys did not waste the invitation, he moved between the spread thighs.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Peeves wasted about ten minutes agonizing over what to do. Flying ever faster back and forth in the unoccupied room he'd materialized in. Then it hit him. The perfect solution. Professor Lupin. The wizard was kind,disinclined to yell and would know what to do. He was also less likely to blast Peeves into true oblivion than just about anyone else.

Peeves streaked towards Lupin's quarters, desperately hoping that the wizard was there. He burst through the door without knocking, catching the slender man in the midst of dressing, startling a yelp out of the shocked werewolf.

"Help! Help!" Peeves yelped, frantically, waving his see-through arms, wildly. "Professor...Headmaster Snape... he is in danger! You have to stop him! He drank the tea, and he is gone. I can't help him!"

Remus Lupin willed his racing heartbeat to more normal ranges, before his heart leapt out of his body, and felt behind him for the arm of his chair. He sank into it as Peeves babbled on, clearly in some sort of distress. He held up a long fingered pale hand. He would get nothing concrete until he manged to calm the apparition. He kept his voice quiet and soothing.

"Slow down, Peeves. Tell me what has happened, exactly." Lupin knew that Severus was at the Manor early, ready for the ceremony that would commence very soon. The one Lupin himself had been dressing to attend.

"Help! Help!" Peeves howled once more. Lupin sighed, pulling out his wand and waving it as he spoke a calming spell. The effect on the small ghost was immediate. Peeves began snoring loudly. It was so difficult to measure the amount of magics needed to work on a ghost. Remus tried again, and was rewarded with a tiny moan. He sat forward, touching the ghost with the tip of his wand. Peeves shuddered violently, but opened his fluttering eyes.

"Now, Peeves, tell me what has happened. There is no need to panic." He soothed, his gentle tone finally reaching the other. 

"Ohhhhh, Professor, I have runined everything. I didn't mean to, I was just watching him, admiring him. He is so different than the man he was. He is so beautiful now." Peeves was weeping ghostly tears.

Lupin reflected that he would not precisely call Severus Snape beautiful, but the man certainly had a commanding presence that had only grown stronger in these last few months. "Shhh. What has gone wrong?" He urged quietly, determined to find out what had the ghost in such a state.

Peeves let out a wail of words. "I knocked over a vial, and it fell into the Headmaster's tea. I am sorry, I didn't mean...."

"What vial? What was in it?" Remus asked, suddenly feeling almost as anxious as the ghost. A premonition of disater racing through him.

Peeves told him. And Remus paled further, hand pressing to his chest in an effort to contain his pounding pulse.

"Oh....shit." He said, very uncharacteristically, but perfectly appropriate in this instance. He stood, and without delay apparated to the Manor, barefoot, and coatless, his bow tie, untied, the ends dangling around his neck.

There was no time to waste.


	107. Chapter 107

Chapter 107

 

Severus couldn't concentrate, couldn't think beyond the hands on his skin, his body hungering for more. He shifted on the soft furs, tickling his back as he was pressed down, writhing. 

His body was bursting with need. He felt so empty, his insides yawning wide, as if reaching for something, desperately needed, craved, and wanted, something vital to him, something he could not define. He shook his head, rocking it from side to side. Need was tearing him apart.

Hands touched him, held him and turned him. Sweet lips slid over his damp cheek, lingered on his own panting mouth. Delved inside, claiming him with a single instant of blessed ease. 

There was love, yes, he knew that, but even love could not compete with hunger like this. He shuddered, aching, fingers knotting in the silk that brushed them. He felt warmth and smelled the scent that was his lover, his Amrys. And the craving grew. 

He arched his body, long and lean, up into the hold of those strong, loving arms, hearing words but not comprehending. Feeling the puff of air on his cheek, each word a warm burst, meaning lost. The golden lights glinting off of blond hair, dazzling his blinking eyes.

He burned, the only balm in all that unrelenting heat, was the cool hand of his lover stroking and holding him, turning him and touching him, slick, careful fingers preparing him, then long slow and cool, Amrys entering him, answering his prayer, as if sinking into warmed honey, thick, rich and sweet, elevating him to bliss. 

As he heard himself beg and plead for just this, then Amrys' voice soothing him, telling him yes, giving him what he needed. Over and over, the need not ending, the hunger growing, into pain.

Amrys kissed him, licking his lips, biting and nipping, driving him wild as he rode into his body, sending shivers over the whole of Snape's skin, plunging in deep. Only that deep, thick stroke filled Snape with satisfaction. Eased him. He burned, so hot, like nothing he had felt before. The need rising and falling like a tide inside his body, his belly still achingly empty, waiting. Waiting, waiting.

Amrys was worried, this animal wildness, this desperate edge was not like his passionate lover, not his Snape. The dark haired man writhed under him, legs spread wide, hands out flung, head craning up and back. Baring the smooth, damp skin of his throat, where Amrys kissed him, laved up the light sweat, tasted the desire, and sucked it into his mouth. Severus screamed.

His hips thrust up, the sheath of his body giving way in spasms, a lusty massage against Amrys' tender parts as the Potions Master sprayed out his seed, not losing any of his stiffness, or his gnawing craving for the strong golden skinned body that was taking him up over the edge of pleasure into howling bliss. 

Amrys' tried to soothe him, tried to stroke him into calm, tried to bring him gently down, but Severus heaved up and fastened his mouth over the lush lips of his own wereleopard, kissing, kissing, tasting and laving, tongue fighting. Eating the kiss almost as if it were food rather than flesh.

Amrys knew, something was very, very wrong. He gave Severus what he begged for, while his mind raced furiously. His hands never forgetting how much he adored this man, even as the demands grew ever wilder, ever more primal, more painful, purely sexual, purely physical, with no answering tenderness on the part of the ravenous body under his. Amrys put his head down and hung on.

^^^^^^^^^^

Remus, half dressed, apparated into the center of the great hall, looking around wildly, whirling around in a circle, agitation rolling off of him in waves. His heart trip-hammered, where? He thought, where? Where was Severus Snape? Was it too late? 

Suddenly he was not alone in the middle of the room, as tall guardian were-leopards appeared. One, two, then three, towering, huge, forbidding, scowling at his state of anxiety, suspicious in that way all warriors charged with security of a beloved leader and a beloved people are. He flapped his hands at them, they narrowed eyes at him.

"I need to find Professor Snape!" He exclaimed, springing forward, hands out stretched, trying to control his anxiety, seeing what it was doing to his chances of getting further into the Manor. He clawed at the chest of the giant he bumped in to, saw a flash of fangs. 

"Please!" Begged the normally tranquil wizard. "I must find him before it is too late! He's been drugged! Accidentally of course, but he must be stopped before...." He blinked up into the granite face, "...before it is too late..." He finished weakly.

Three heads whipped around, all looking in the same direction, ears perked up, nostrils flaring. Remus turned that way, looking frantically for...then he heard it, the distant scream, deep and longing, telegraphing ecstasy, joy, wanton needs met, unmet, and wild abandon. Release. Orgasm. And...Severus Snape. An odd combination, in his mind.... Remus Lupin leaped in the direction from which the sounds came. Springing, supple and swift as a gazelle. Or a wolf in the cat's house...

He ran, hearing without registering consciously, that feet followed him, rapid and deadly, hunter's tread. He knew in his primitive brain hands were reaching out, to stop him, to grasp him, and he wriggled left then right, evading the power in those hands. A wolf in a man's skin. They could smell him, his difference, and not for the first time Remus cursed his wolf's curse. If they stopped him because of it, then Severus.... it would be too late for Severus.

He raced on. All the while heading for the gasping moans. Voices shouted, and suddenly he ran into a wall. His breath slamming out of his lungs, dizzying. A vise fastened around his waist, lifting him high. And he knew why they hadn't caught him, they had been letting him head this way, until he was captured in their trap. He groaned.

His feet were high up off the ground, dangling and kicking as the message he was no longer running, no longer able to sprint towards his colleague and help, registered more slowly. He squirmed, was lifted to face a frowning, grim face. He recognized it, he had seen it before, if he could but remember.....he patted those lean, strong cheeks with nervous hands. Pat, pat, pat. What was this man's name?

"Help, help, help." Remus Lupin said. "Help, help, help."

"What is this all about?" The deep voice asked. And the voice was the last key.

"Mantheer!" He gasped, panting for breath, finding more words. It was Draco's Mantheer. He could help. "It's Severus!" He gulped as the expression changed to concern, not to promised retribution.

"What about Severus?" Rumbled the voice, Lupin felt it vibrate in that deep chest against his torso.

"Mani?" It was Draco, coming up behind the big man. Remus almost fainted. He turned his pleading gaze onto the boy.

"He drank a potion by accident. S-s-p-p-p-pilled into his t-t-t-tea. Please, I must do a counter spell to protect him. It will drive him mad until he is-s-s-s-s-s....." Remus abruptly stared at all the openly curious faces gathered around. So many. All listening. Glittering eyes of every color, none fully human, all feline. Severus would not be pleased to hear his business bandied about like this. "Please, I need to get to him, soon!" Remus ended lamely.

"Who, drank what?" Draco asked, taking a step closer, stopping only when the guardian, Mantheer, growled a warning to him to stay back. Draco didn't believe he was in any danger from Professor Lupin, but he heeded Mani and stopped. He asked again. "Who? What did he drink?"

"Snape. Severus. Professor Snape." He gasped, wondering why he couldn't catch his breath.

"Snape is in trouble?" Draco asked, alarm painting his beautiful pale, pale features. "What did he drink?"

"The whole vial. The whole vial! Into his tea! It is dosed in drops, not vials full! I need to get to him, to find out how much he drank, Peeves didn't know how much...."

"Peeves?" Draco puzzled. He couldn't think how the ghost fit into the conversation, but he knew Lupin was seriously concerned. He looked up at the frowning face of his guardian leopard. "We need to find Snape." He said, his light blue eyes wide.

Mantheer was well versed in real versus imagined emergencies. He had seen this professor calmly deal with enraged were-wolves and leopards and keep his cool. Whatever the problem was, it was a real problem. And add to that, Draco was worried. It was more than enough. He nodded, tucking Remus under one arm and heading off towards the screams. His long legs eating up the distance.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

The fire was not going out. His skin felt like it was peeling off, Severus needed to be touched, licked, caressed, to be filled, to be taken, long and hard. The momentary relief achieved with his last orgasm was gone, and now he moaned, clawing at Amrys, trying to draw the man closer, deeper into his body. Amrys was talking to him, asking things, and Severus wanted to answer, he really did, but he could not. He didn't understand a word of it, any of it.

"No." He said. "No, more, please. No." He was babbling to his unending horror. He never babbled, never tripped over his tongue, words coming too fast to escape his mouth in clarity. 

"Sev," Amrys called out to the sweating, writhing man. He smoothed the tangled locks out of the way, so he could see the dark, nearly black eyes, glazed with lust, not his Severus, not him at all. Amrys tried to soothe him, tried to get through to him, murmuring his name, over and over. Snape wrapped his legs around the wereleopard's hips, squeezed tight.

"No, no, no...." It went on and on, and he thrashed, even as he grabbed Amrys, held him, tried to ride that long thickness still inside of him. Not moving. Why wasn't it moving? He had to have it. Had to feel it doing what he needed it to do. He had to be filled to overflowing. Maybe that would be enough. He reared up, screaming into the horrified face bending over him. "Why did you stop?!"


	108. Chapter 108

Chapter 108

 

Severus was propped up against a mountain of pillows and furs. Amrys was seated at his side, expression worried. He held the pale hand of his adored human lover, Snape's hand was convulsed around that of the wereleopard, clinging tightly. Severus was a bit shy about being touched in front of others, but Amrys was working on getting him used to it. And given what had just happened, Sev was just going to have to put up with a hovering and concerned lover. 

Amrys had been absolutely panicked, a very unusual state for him, when faced with the insatiable Severus. It had quickly turned from a fun romp and roll in the furs to him being afraid for the wizard's mind and safety. Love and lust he could take, but being unable to alleviate the need in Severus had been frightening. Draco and Remus showing up when they did had been Merlin sent. Amrys had run out of ideas.

"Where on earth did such a potion come from?" Lucius growled angrily, standing next to the bed that held the resting wizard. Harry sat beside his former professor, looking over the paler than normal features with continuing concern. He dabbed at the sweat beaded brow with a square of cool toweling, marveling that the older man was allowing himself to be fussed over at all.

"Did you mix it up?" Harry was more direct than the king of the leopards. Though he couldn't imagine Snape mixing up a potion with the actions of the one he'd taken. Remus Lupin had outlined the contents of the small vial and Harry had blanched, thinking of how horrible it would be to feel that degree of need wash over him. Of having to turn to many, many men to slake his lust. It had nearly happened to Snape. If Lupin had not apparated in with an effective counter spell.....Harry shivered. There was no dignity in the vision that Harry's mind came up with. He took a deep breath. It hadn't turned out that way. Professor Lupin had come to the rescue soon enough.

"It was from Albus' personal potions. I found it in his office and I kept it, meaning to have it analyzed, until that was possible, I put it in my quarters for safe keeping. High up on a shelf. Entirely out of reach. It should have been far out of harm's way." Severus held his aching skull in his hands. Harry dabbed at the beads of sweat. "Obviously I was mistaken."

Snape shook his head and Remus took the towel from Harry, re-wet it and pressed the cool, damp towel to his forehead. Snape instead of objecting to the pampering, allowed the other teacher to hold the cloth in place. It was the clearest testament yet, on how horrible Snape was feeling. He hated being fussed over. But now he lay on his back enduring the care of others with nary a scowl or glare.

"I just don't understand how it could have gotten into my tea." The black haired man murmured. "I didn't take anything off of the shelf, didn't bump into it...." He shook his head gingerly. His dark eyes glittering with fever. Amrys sat next to him, looping an arm around the white shoulders.

Amrys looked up at Lupin when that man made a small noise of distress. It alerted him to a situation he might not like. He cast a suspicious look at the Hogwarts' teacher.

"Promise you will control your temper, Severus." Remus said, quietly. Amrys stood, realizing the other man knew something about how his lover had been poisoned. He loomed over the slender werewolf, flexing and glowering. Lucius waved him back from the wary Professor. Harry put a hand out but Lucius would not allow Harry to touch the other wereleopard. Using his own body he moved Amrys back, placed his hands on the gold-skinned waist.

"A reasonable request." Lucius said, mildly. "Upset will not aid your condition." He said to the recumbent man, as he kept his hands on his second, who was still glowering. They all heard the grinding of Severus' molars as he gave a curt nod, then pressed a hand to his forehead. Even that small movement was unwelcome in his current condition.

"Very well. It was Peeves. He tipped it accidentally into your tea." Remus explained quietly. "He did not intend to do you any harm.

"Who is Peeves?" Amrys growled and was promptly ignored as Snape's gaze sharpened, then he shut them, the pain too much.

"What exactly was he doing in my personal rooms?" Snape asked with both eyes closed. As the silence lingered he opened one eye, fixing Remus with its harpoon-like glare. Lupin cleared his throat. "I really don't feel quite well enough to drag it out of you Lupin. Please take pity on my condition and just explain it to me."

"He was watching you." Remus said gently. 

"Watching me?" Snape sounded utterly confused. "Why on earth would that little pipsqueak want to watch me?" The complaint held none of the usual sharpness.

"He has found you increasingly compelling of late, he says. Apparently he finds you quite beautiful." Lupin found he could not stop the faint pink flush from rising in his own cheeks, even as he saw a darker hue rise in Severus'.

Snape appeared to digest this new and very unexpected information. Then both eyes flew open. "This has been going on for a time?"

"Oh, most certainly, yes." Remus admitted. "He was going on and on about how wonderful you were."

"How long would you say?" Snape asked pointedly, cutting through the rest of Remus' statement."

"Peeves admitted to several months." Lupin shrugged. "He did not say, not exactly."

"During which time he has watched me. Doing what exactly?" Snape inquired more sharply than before. "Only when I was alone, or...perhaps when others were with me?"

Lupin's cheeks pinked. The others in the room stirred at the question every one of them knowing what Snape was thinking. Amrys let out a low growl. Coming so soon an the heels of Dumbledore's discovered activities, they were all uncomfortable with the idea of being spied on. "Well, he seemed to like to watch you doing anything at all, as frequently as possible. If I am to interpret his statement."

"I was afraid of that." Snape let his head fall back onto the pillows. Almost without a doubt the meddlesome ghost had watched him at some very intimate moments. The legacy of Dumbledore had allowed the spirits residing at Hogwarts to develop some reprehensible habits. No doubt they had seen him doing his full range of activities. Snape would not allow himself to dwell on those times and just what the ghost had seen. He would put a stop to it. There was nothing he could do about the past infractions. But he fully intended to set a firm new standard.

"That is not all I am afraid." Lupin said hesitantly. Everyone looked at him again, with growing alarm. "Uhm, I found Albus' potion's manual. The wards protecting his books were negated on his imprisonment. I thought it worth consulting, given the severity of your reaction. It was one of the compulsion mixtures he'd composed."

"Yes. I deduced as much." Snape said with pained patience. "What other bad news have you discovered? I am sure you would not have mentioned it if it weren't bad news."

"Well, Albus never dared use it on his...victims. It was everything he wanted, except it had a side effect he could not eliminate. One that negated it's usefulness. He spent countless hours trying to eliminate it."

"Again, I am left wondering what the bad news is going to be." Snape said into the charged silence. Amrys freed himself from his king and went to Severus' side, he lay a hand over his chest. Snape put his own on top. Amrys lifted it to his mouth and kissed it. Snape pretended he didn't notice, but his insides warmed with pleasure.

"The one side effect he could not get rid of...it increased fertility as well as libido. All the subjects inevitably became pregnant. Regaurdless of gender." Lupin said after a short pause. At first the new Headmaster of Hogwarts' found it impossible to comprehend. He blinked. 

Amrys froze, his mouth warm on the palm of his lover's hand. Then very slowly he lowered the hand to his lap and stared at the werewolf.

Severus Snape sat bolt upright. "I am PREGNANT?!" He roared, long hanks of pitch black hair flying around his face.


	109. Chapter 109

Chapter 109

 

Severus had collapsed back on the bed furs through sheer frustration, Harry decided. All the ranting and raving, very atypical of his former professor, had led to nothing much more than the wizard snatching his wand from Remus, who then snatched it back, telling Snape in no uncertain terms that magic might not be the best thing for him to be doing in his assumed to be gravid state.

Severus had reacted by snatching his wand back a second time and using the long, slender bit of wood to scan his belly and pelvis. No one in the room had missed the unmistakable results. The glow was in precisely the right spot. Severus glared at Amrys, who regarded him much more placidly. Almost with a pleased expression. Smug. Snape was outraged, sputtering as the lycanthrope took his hand and stroked it, adoringly. He probably would have patted Snape on the belly over the glow...but Severus bared his teeth at him. Wisely Amrys restricted his attentions to the wizard's hand.

Severus Snape, the new Headmaster of Hogwarts was indeed irreversibly pregnant. Harry let out a nervous giggle then clapped a hand over his mouth eyes big as saucers when the professor frowned darkly at him. Draco shushed him and sat on the bed next to his former Head of House, now the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Soon to be mother.

"You know more than just about anyone about male pregnancy, Severus. There is nothing to worry about....Everything will go perfectly well. It will be over in no time and you will have a lovely baby for all your trouble." Draco reached back and took Yaji's hand in his own. The huge man bent and ran careful fingers over the pale blond hair feathering around Draco's face. Their affection for each other was very clear. Snape narrowed his eyes.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Now a good eight months and three weeks later Severus Snape was as uncomfortable and snappish as he had ever been. His belly was huge, a massive testimonial to the fact that Amrys apparently could not father anything less than twins. And apparently hefty ones at that. 

Severus stood to stretch out his aching back. His ankles were puffed up to twice their normal slender size. Bony, he corrected himself. His ankles were normally bony, not slender. Now they were anything but. Add to that insult...he had not seen his genitals in months, hidden as they were under his vast abdomen. He couldn't even reach them any longer, no matter how he tried to contort his body. Perhaps they were no longer there at all, he thought irritably. 

He had been reduced to sitting to do all his toileting, a humiliating thing. He should not be so troubled by it. But he was. It made him feel less than a man and more like a pregnant woman. Amrys tried to be sympathetic as he helped him wash. Severus wouldn't hear a word of it. He was utterly miserable. 

He hadn't even been able to enjoy sex with his lover. He was too uncomfortable. He wondered if Amrys was off enjoying himself with others, supple and handsome young kittens of the pride to take the edge off. He stubbornly refused himself permission to ask. If Amrys no longer wanted him or found him horribly unattractive...well Severus could hardly blame him. He sniffled. Must be a draft in here, he told himself. He was aching and stiff and his eyes were watering, his nose dripping.

He was miserable. Except for the times he dreamed about the two babies wedged tightly into his belly. With any luck at all they'd have their father's good looks. The idea of two beautiful babies who would grow to look like Amrys made Snape's knees weak. He made sure he concealed it from his lover. No need to swell the man's head further. One look at Draco's babies was enough to take anyone's breath away. The idea that soon Amrys would have four to brag about...Snape allowed himself a secret smile.

He resumed his seat. Wishing the deep ache in his back would go away long enough for him to review the admission records pertaining to the new students in the upcoming classes. He sighed adjusting his chair as best he could, placing his feet up on the cushioned stool Lucius and Harry had brought to his office last month. Harry had stared at him, eyes locked onto the mountainous belly Severus was sporting. He'd griped at them, but the stool really did seem to help a little.

His back spasmed. Damn. It was getting worse, not better at all. He stood again, feeling restless, wanting to move. To pace. He managed a cumbersome shuffle. Like a waddling hippograf. He snarled at that image. To make things worse he had to pee again. He was shocked he had been reduced to such appalling verbiage. Pee indeed. He needed to urinate, to void his bladder. He shuffled in the direction of his private lavatory. It seemed too far away for his desperate bladder. 

"Oh for...Merlin's....sake." He groused. He was awkward. He had never been anything but elegant in his movement. Now he was a lumbering, teetering, unbalanced...moose. He snarled, planting both hands on the back of his hips and leaning what weight he could into them. Trying to force some sort of pressure into the muscles that seized up so fiercely. Trying to hasten his progress.

Finally he arrived at his destination. Thankfully without an accident. He gingerly lowered himself onto the seat. Blessed relief. He was annoyed at the tiny amount he produced. It had felt like he was holding a veritable flood inside his compressed bladder. He struggled up to his feet. Let his robes fall into place, and started the shuffle back to his desk. 

A gush of fluid flooded his legs and filled his slippers. He stopped moving, blinking at the puddle he was suddenly standing in the middle of. Back pains. Irritability. Restlessness. Cramping. He was in labor. And he had missed it entirely. 

Snape made an effort to recall when the pains had started. Then he was seized by the mother of all cramping pains. In his back, his pelvis and between his legs. And he realized he was still in his male form. He would have smacked himself right between the eyes if he wasn't afraid of knocking himself off of his feet. The wave of discomfort passed and he shuffled quickly to his desk. He didn't dare sit, he bent forward, resting his elbows on the desk and sent out a call for Remus and Amrys, then after a second for Draco as well. 

Then he waited, hoping they would be quick. Because he didn't want to try to deliver the babies without all the help he could get. How on Earth had the much more delicate Draco managed to push out the huge creatures inhabiting his belly? Snape felt like a boulder was straining to make it's way out.

Someone was pounding on his door. He lifted his head. He did not want any company. Not now.

"Go away." He said, firmly. 

"Severus?" It was Remus. "Severus? You must take down the wards so we can enter." The werewolf's voice was even, the tone completely reasonable. Snape flushed. He had forgotten the wards. He struggled for his wand. Awkwardly he swished and flicked as unpracticed a move as any first year's. But it got the job done. And Remus was inside, followed by Draco rubbing his eyes, obviously having just wakened. 

They helped him to the rooms behind the office. Stopping every few feet for a contraction to pass. The three of them wobbled unsteadily. Snape puckered his lips in frustration. The bed was still on the far side of the room. They would never make it at this rate. He opened his mouth to tell them he was ready to deliver on the floor rather than try for the bed....when powerful arms encircled him and lifted him. 

He blinked up into Amrys' face, as he was carried the rest of the way to the bed. He sighed when the mattress was under him, his aching back pleased to no longer be upright. Amrys smiled back at him. Snape opened his mouth to thank his beloved, when a contraction hit. He crushed the wereleopard's fingers in his own.

Severus Snape did something completely out of character. He started swearing.


	110. Chapter 110

Chapter 110

 

Severus Snape was convinced that his body had been turned inside out. He hoped that Remus Lupin had remembered to stuff all the essential parts back inside before changing his gender from female for the birth, back to blessedly male for the rest of his natural life. It wouldn't do to stumble over a forgotten spleen, uterus or some-such when he finally got up from this damn bed. 

Severus sighed, wincing at the incredible lingering soreness that inflicted his pelvis, much like his bones had been prised apart with a dull chisel. Once again he wondered how the slender, far more delicate Draco had managed to push out two babies from his slim hips, while he, felt he'd been split asunder. Snape would never again minimize what the boy had done. Severus had sworn, cursed, snarled and kicked like a madwoman. Lupin had dodged and cajoled, Draco alternately scolding and praising him, darting out of Snape's reach when necessary, Amrys holding his hand and not wincing a whit despite Snape's death grip.

Now Severus Snape lay panting, having delivered two unbelievably tiny babies, bundled snugly in the double wide bassinet next to his bed. He was shocked to his core to see how small they were. It had not felt so small, as they pushed out of his shocked and entirely unprepared body, now that he could see them, they looked so fragile, helpless. His heart squeezed painfully.

Amrys was hovering over the two babies with an expression of pride and wonder. His eyes shone when he raised his head and looked at his mate. His face was beatific. It was also rather fierce, as he telegraphed his intention of protecting them from any and every possible risk. Real or imagined. Snape felt his own previously unknown maternal instincts stir.

Severus was momentarily breathless at that look from the golden beauty who, with him, had made these babes. Amrys was gazing on him as if he had performed miracles unheard of before. His smile was radiant and tremulous. Filled with uncontainable joy. Severus had not paid all that much attention to Amrys when Draco's children had been born. But he thought that Amrys was even more attentive now than he had been then. His heart thumped and turned over in his chest.

Snape raised himself up on one elbow. His first attempt at speech was little more than a croak, his throat raw and dry. Small wonder considering the shouts and roared obscenities he'd let out during his many hours of labor. The combination preventing anything near comprehensible from emerging from his mouth.

"Thirsty?" Draco asked as he spun on his chair parked to Snape's right and retrieved a glass of cool, watered fruit juice. Draco held the glass to his mouth. The tart juice filled his mouth, seeming to soak right into his parched tissues like a balm. He swallowed gratefully, his eyes drifting shut to appreciate the wonder of wetness and sweetness flowing over his tongue and down his sandpapered throat. Utter bliss.

"Are...." Still a croak, but one that it was possible to comprehend. He cleared his throat yet again. "Are the children alright?" It was the first and only thing on his mind. Were they...his two little, dark haired daughters, OK? 

Amrys gazed at them, touching them with terribly gentle fingers. Handling them with reverence and fierce, joyous care. Snape felt a suspicious tickle rise in his throat, lodging in the back of his sinuses. He sniffled. Dust, again. The whole pace would have to be cleaned. All the dust that was flying about. It could make a man's eyes water.

Remus answered, with crisp efficiency, still doing something down there between Snape's legs, his wand rising and falling. His tone was absentminded, his concentration elsewhere. "They are fine, Severus, no need to worry..."

Snape favored the man with one of his patented glares, scandalized at the offhanded reply. He momentarily thought of closing his legs on the impertinent man's head and squeezing quite hard. Remus Lupin could not possibly understand the import of this moment. he could not know the intensity of the bond that Severus felt with the tiny lives inches away under Amrys' careful watch. He also couldn't know that his patient was contemplating kicking him in the head for his insensitivity.

Amrys looked up again, smiling widely, tears swimming in his eyes. "They are...perfect. As beautiful and perfect as any child could ever be, my love." His voice was deeper even than usual, filled with affection and adoration, with love. Snape swallowed the tears that threatened to choke him.

Amrys left the children's side, stepping over to the man who had borne his children, had given him two beautiful daughters to go with the radiant sons Draco had given him and the pride. Not so long ago, Amrys had been a free and independent man. Second only to Lucius in the pride. 

Then he had met a man who was truly different from any other he had encountered. A man who was both querulous and noble. Who paid little attention to his physical appearance, yet had something indefinable that drew Amrys to him. A sharp tongue, a stern view on life. A man who had principles and stuck to them. A man who had more than once saved Harry from death and injury. The champion of his pride's Chosen. Of Lucius' husband. The king proclaimed his thanks. Amrys had slowly fallen in love. 

The lust had been almost instantaneous. It had been so hot and fast it nearly burned him with it's intensity. He had wanted the tall, slim man. He had wanted him in his bed, Amrys set about getting him. It had all come to this. The day when Peeves had spilled the potion into Severus' cup and Severus had gone wild with lust...the day these miracles had been conceived. The day Severus, only partly recovered, had insisted on attending Harry and Lucius' bonding ceremony, sleeping through most of it, snoring loudly while doing so, the entire cadre of kittens grinning behind their hands. It had all led to now. The babies, Severus. Love.

Amrys had always been surrounded by love. Love of friends, of the body, of king and pride. Love of family. Now he had it all. He had husband, partner, children, pride....all of it. He sank to his knees at the side of his lover's child-bed. He took the long, graceful, pale fingers in his own, darker, stronger, squarer ones. He gazed lovingly on the sweating features, the lank hair stuck to the sharp featured face. He pressed his lips to those fingers, his eyes locked on the obsidian ones of his mate.

"Severus, my beloved, my mate, will you join with me in the way of the leopards of my pride? Will you agree to be recognized as my mate, my personal chosen and be changed? To become one with me and my pride?" His voice was heavy with emotion. Thrumming with the power of his desire for the other man, the only man he had even wanted to ask this.

Severus Snape gaped, unable to credit what he was hearing. Draco gave out a little hoot of joy. He shook his former professor's shoulder. 

"For god's sake man! Wake up! He's asked you to marry him!" He squealed at the poleaxed man. He bounced in his chair, excited, shaking Snape repeatedly. "Aren't you going to say anything?!" The young blond squealed his demand, continuing to bounce in agitated happiness.

"Gaaahhhh?" The Headmaster of Hogwarts, supreme Potion's Master, skilled practitioner of DADA, protector of the boy who lived, swordsman, and most importantly, mate of Amrys and brand new mother, at last, managed to utter. "Gahh-hah!" He repeated, emphatically. Not quite living up to his reputation as a man who was never at a loss for words.

Amrys kissed him, beaming. He had no trouble understanding the answer perfectly.


	111. Chapter 111

Chapter 111: the Epilogue.

 

Harry Potter, Chosen of the king of the pride, sat in the quiet of the Room of Rules and Laws. He found the room, with its symbol-incised walls, to be relaxing and infinitely welcoming. The magic within it, the years of tradition, embraced and held him gently. Making him feel...know...he was indeed part of the were-leopard pride of Lucius Malfoy. Here, he belonged. There was no question or doubt in his mind. He felt the room enfold him, hold him gently in it's bosom.

Once he had felt rejected, once he had feared that he was not loved, that he would never truly belong to anyone or to anything, any place. Now. He had all those things. He had Ron, Draco, the other kittens. He had Lucius, a man he loved more than he thought he ever could love anyone. A man who had stood up with him and declared his love and devotion in a ceremony that skirted the line of the laws he lived by. But he had done it, for Harry.

He had Graeme, too, who took care of him fiercely, watched out for him, gave him safety and comfort. He had Blaise, the other kitten his almost mentor and a friend. He had Draco who had become his very best friend. He was valued and loved and fulfilled. He was happy. He had the love of a strange and wonderful man, a man who was a king, who's people loved and worshiped him. The same people who held out open arms to Harry.

Harry never thought he'd want to live like this. At first he'd believed it was all wrong, that it was worse than anything he'd endured before. That was wrong, but he hadn't know that then. The sharing, the love and the lust. The couplings. They had made him feel used, that he was going to burst, to weep and to rail against the unfairness, that Lucius was not his and his alone. But. He learned that it was just his reaction to the unknown. Fear. To being unsure and insecure. To not knowing he was well and truly loved.

How strange that now he could see Lucius with his people, even with other kittens and feel no jealousy. Lucius was more than just Harry's, he belonged to the rest of the pride. Lucius was the king and the heart of the pride. Harry was very simply, the highest in the king's esteem, his most treasured and most beloved. He had nothing to fear any longer. Harry spent the night in Lucius' arms and his bed. Lucius broke tradition for him. Harry was the first Chosen to lay in his pride king's bed. The bed for the leaders of the pride: the king, his second and third. Never any other. Until Harry.

It had taken time and the touch of other were-leopards, but Harry knew that he was not alone, that Lucius was not the only person who he had to rely on, depend on. Amrys, Graeme, Tanith, Draco, even the once terrifying Severus Snape...the list was long. Harry had a whole community now. 

He was deeply lost in pleasant thought when a warm hand settled on his shoulder. Harry gasped and turned, caught entirely by surprise. His lycanthrope hearing and senses usually made it impossible to sneak up on him. Not so today. He flushed with happiness when he saw it was Lucius behind him.

"Why are you here, Harry?" The king asked, his face shining as he looked down at his Chosen. He stroked a finger along Harry's pink cheek, eyes lingering on the sweet lips. "This is a sacred place. I wonder...why do you come here so often?"

"It calls to me, makes me feel peaceful. Good." Harry said, leaning his cheek against the broad back of the pale skinned hand. The big, fearsome hand rotated, cupped his face. Loved him. 

"It is like there is a feeling of the past and the pride here." The young man answered, knowing that he was only able to put part of what he was experiencing from his visits here into words. He couldn't describe the incredible draw of the runic words and the stone and the walls. The feel of incredible antiquity, great age. This was a place of...forever. And it called to him. Lured and beckoned him.

"It is a place of our pride's magic. And you are of the pride. So it lays claim to you, Harry." Lucius seemed to understand, and Harry sighed happily. He leaned his head back as Lucius settled down behind him, so warm. "Would you wish to pay tribute to the pride?" The big man asked, his hand spreading out on Harry's belly, a shield, a caress.

Harry tilted his head back to look up into the so handsome face. His chest swelled with joy. Yes, he wanted.... "Tribute? How? What do you mean?"

"The Room is the most ancient part of the pride. It is our laws and our rules and our history. It is what we have been, what we are, what we will be, my Chosen. Some times we give back to its magic for sustaining our memory, for reminding us of ourselves, our pride." Lucius slid his long, strongly muscled arms around Harry, holding tight, secure. Harry shivered in delight. There was nothing like the touch of all that power, physical and heartfelt, to send him spinning. The press of those great biceps, that firm belly, rippling against him. It was as if...Lucius was the embodiment of all that was noble and honorable, was endowed with the primordial power of the pride. Its very essence.

Harry gulped at the burning intensity of the man's pale, silvered blue eyes. "And..." He swallowed again, his skin tingling, "Uh...how would we do that?" He half squeaked, mouth dry with longing. Lucius smiled and his head lowered towards Harry's. 

"This is how....Lay with me, beloved. Give me of yourself, here, among the memories and the dreams, the past and the future of what we are. Give yourself to me....surrender yourself, love." He murmured softly as his lips hovered over those of the slender, emerald eyed youth. 

"This is how we give honor..." And they kissed, soft as a breeze, wet and warm, the feel of it seeping gloriously into Harry's bones, singing through his flesh, sighing in his heart. The air crackled, swirled and coalesced, caressing over his skin, warming him, accepting him, taking him. Harry moaned when Lucius lifted his head away. His damp, glistening lips still parted, straining up, needing the touch, the taste, and feel of his man.

"How...how many times?" He asked, blinking dazedly. But the were-leopard understood what he was asking.

"I have offered only once before. When I chose Amrys and Graeme as my second and third. I came here to offer thanks with them, leaving our seed here, our pleasure and our thanks. I have never had anything worthy of the Room of Rules and Laws since that day. Not until now. Harry." The long blond hair fell around them both as Lucius reached up and undid the knotted tie. Nearly Harry's favorite thing, that light touch of long, satin strands. Then there was the heated, skilled mouth, the vibrant skin, the magical hands, the incomparable, dominating body, the person his lover *was*, he sighed, a trembling, needing, ,joyous sound.

"Worship with me...." It was a sigh, a breath, hot and sweet caressing Harry's skin, all over, in more places than should have been possible, curling in possession, between his legs, tempting him. He shivered in joy, tingling and moaning, his hands willingly tugging at the man's thin silk trousers, pawing hungrily over the exquisite bare chest. Muscle's curved under his hungry hands, filled them to overflowing, lifted him, spread him. Adored him. With tongue and spit and and lips wandering. As Harry found and grasped the magnificent curve of buttocks, slabs of artistic perfection, driving tenderly into him. Power enough to break him...but healing him instead.

"Oh Gods, oh Merlin!" Harry groaned into the sensual cavern of his lover's mouth. Lucius had him naked and spread out on the floor furs, that fast, open, unshielded, a sacrifice of love and lust, desire burning, too fast and hot for Harry to believe it was only moments since the other man had found him. His chest heaved up, arching into the tongue laving his taut nipple, wandering up his arched throat.

The bites were welcome, driving the fire in his ignored and empty core that much higher. He lifted himself, offered...waited and wanted the fingers that found him, slid over him, his tight opening, paying homage to that part of him that brought his king such great, blinding pleasure. Then inside, long and deep, reaching, spreading gently, until Harry moaned, full, shaking begging with whispers and hips canting. Throwing his near leg over the man's hips, heel finding lodging at the small of Lucius' back, binding them together.

"Oh....more. Please more." The sigh, dizzying. Harry sobbing, hands up flung, arms wide, legs lifted up to straddle and cup, to encircle the powerful hips of his beloved. The first touch, wet, hot, straining, at the center of him, almost too much, then sliding infinitely slow, and not nearly enough, as he groaned the man smiled at him while he arched and begged.

And Lucius entered him. All long, steady, slow torture of the most insane sweetness. Plumbing him fully, deeply, stealing his breath, focusing all his feeling to that place, that most intense pleasure of giving, of Lucius taking and owning him. Their hips meeting, flush, no deeper penetration possible, melding and merging, Harry's body lifted by slender pelvis, his upper body flowing back and down, his dark curls tumbled around his face. A dark angel, marble skin glowing, slim erection straining, body taken and opened, thrust by thrust.

"Oh," he said, breathed, "....oh...love....you...." A sigh floating....gone.

He writhed, bent as he was, held for his beloved's pleasure, legs knotted higher around the man's waist, buttocks cleaved, his moans taking wing, sweat dewing his belly, his chest, pooling in the hollow of his throat. Lucius' hands his anchor, his fulcrum as they moved together in ancient rhythm, in pleasure, in sharing, in joy, as he was taken, as he gave and surrendered.

The slick surge, so far, dilating him. Harry moaned. Out, tight and hard, in, pressing, stroking, opening him further. Oh, god. Oh no. In, in. Oh yes. Like that. Harry cried out. Lucius growled, bending down again, covering the shivering, shaking kitten with kissing, sharp bites, enveloping him, taking what was his. In and out, and in. Always, that was it. In. 

In. 

Until it was so much, too much, enough and Harry screamed it. His pleasure, his release up into the air, into the magic of the Room of Rule and or Law. 

And it was taken, his offering, as Lucius filled him. Fingers digging into him, the slick heat of his hips, unable to resist the tight squeezing, caressing around his throbbing, blood filled member, buried deep in his Chosen's body. The air glittered and sparkled and grew gold sheened. Harry's seed turning to tiny stars, taken as the gift from the very magic of the air.

And Lucius gave to his beloved as much as had been taken, his love, his body, his devotion, his seed. His Pride. His sacrifice.

And Harry belonged.

The End!!


End file.
